Cold
by shouldbecleaning
Summary: The winter of 1869 recorded a low temperature that would last for more than one hundred and fifty years. The only thing colder ever recorded was Isabella Cullen's marriage bed. Entry for the Caveat Emptor: Maybe An HEA? contest. Trigger warning. Now expanded from original contest entry.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction. If this story offends you, I sincerely apologize.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I frozen my ass off just the same.**

 **Beta writer/reader/guru/sensei: beachcomberlc**

 **Pre-reader/great and all knowing OZ: SunflowerFran**

 _Annapolis_ _Royal, Nova Scotia, Canada, 1852_

If it had not been for her aunt's sense of family, Isabella would have died shortly after her birth. The same birth that killed her mother. Her mother Marie was a simple-minded young girl who was seduced by a smooth talking French sailor on leave in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Marie had been working in the port city as a laundress. She had no idea that the relations she had had with her sailor would result in a child. When she was dismissed from her job for being a slattern, after losing her morning meal in a tub of clean clothing, one of the girls in her boarding house took pity on her and explained what was happening. She sold everything she could, save her body, and purchased rail travel back to Annapolis Royal on Nova Scotia's southern shore. Her father did not welcome her back with open arms, in fact, he had her mother strike her name from the family bible.

Her sister Renee took pity on her and, with her husband's permission, allowed her to live out her pregnancy at their home as long as she stayed out of view of society. Renee had married well to an English naval officer, Phillip Dwyer. He was not pleased with Renee's sense of charity but was well pleased with Renee. She had provided him a well cared for home and many lovely children. Renee had worked very hard to rid herself of all traces of her Acadian speech and she fit in well with all the other officer's wives. Marie helped take care of her sister's house for as long as she was able but gave birth to her daughter early and died of the effort. She did not even have time to name her child. Renee christened her Isabella after their maternal grandmother and raised her as best she could. Phillip refused to give the girl his name and as they did not know the name of the French sailor who fathered her, he opened the Bible, closed his eyes, pointed and found a surname for the little bastard. He giggled with delight when he read the name he had unconsciously chosen; Swan, an unclean bird from Leviticus 11:18. To him it seemed fitting.

Her aunt tried to give her as much love as she could but was hindered by Ship's Master Dwyer. He made sure that his children received the best of everything and if there was anything left over it could go to Isabella. Isabella fell directly in the middle of the family order. There were two boys and a girl, older than her and two girls and a boy younger. Isabella was eighteen months younger than her eldest female cousin.

Isabella's childhood was unremarkable. She ate, she slept, she worked, she learned. Most importantly, she obeyed. She knew no better than to obey. At the age of sixteen the eldest daughter was sent to finishing school to help her prepare to make a suitable marriage. So as not to impede his daughter's success Ship's Master Dwyer sat his wife down and informed her that he had secured a respectable position for Isabella. She would not be attending finishing school when she turned sixteen but would travel out west instead. He had everything arranged; Isabella would start her journey in the spring. She would be chaperoned on the almost three thousand mile journey in exchange for her services as a mother's helper. By the time she would arrive in Rupert's Land she would be sixteen and employed. Her gentleman employer was of very good reputation and had a stellar family.

Renee spent the winter teaching Isabella everything she could to help her in her new life as an Inn's housekeeper. As she was the only child in the household to have chores, Isabella was fairly adept at housekeeping. She learned her lessons quickly and well. Renee had a very frank and truthful lecture for Isabella about the ways between a man and his wife in the eventuality that Isabella found a husband. Renee did not want what happened to her sister to happen again. Braced with her new knowledge, her baggage, and a few coins, Isabella set off at the end of March. As prepared as she was for the adventure, Isabella was terrified. To be sent away from everything she had known to a very uncertain future brought a fear that plagued her nights.

Ship's Master Dwyer deposited her at the train station, briefly introducing her to the family she was to travel with. They were minor Russian aristocracy and believed themselves much better than everyone they had met in their new country. They had more money than sense and had chosen a travel plan that incorporated as many modes of transportation as possible. Isabella was treated as less than the lowliest of servants, given meagre rations and accommodations. When they travelled by rail she was made to sleep on the floor of the children's compartment. When they voyaged by water she was given no blankets as the Lady was chilled. When they travelled by carriage she was to ride with the driver in the open air. Over the months that it took to arrive in Rupert's Land, Isabella lost all of the slight plumpness of childhood and became nearly skeletal and drawn. There was no longer a rosy glow on her cheeks and her hair was limp and matted. Daily cold washings had left her clean but her skin was chafed and raw. She had left Nova Scotia a plain but pleasant-looking girl; she was that no longer. She was unceremoniously dropped off at the rail station in Fort Rouge with her baggage and two pounds sterling.

After getting directions to the Inn near Fort Garry, Isabella set off on foot to her new home. The air was hot and dry, completely different from the sea air she had grown up with. A fine layer of dust settled on her skin by the time she arrived at the Inn. A large sign proclaiming Inn at the Forks announced her arrival. The building was bigger than any she had ever seen and she wondered how she was to clean it all. Perhaps there would be another maid or two to help. She tried to brush the dust off her dress before walking into the main reception hall to find her employer. A cheery peal of bells sounded as she opened the door. The young man at the counter took in the sight of travel-weary Isabella and smiled at her. She walked to the desk and put her baggage on the floor.

"I am Isabella Swan. I'm to see Mr. Cullen."

The young man at the counter nodded and left the desk. He came back minutes later with a tall man, who had a look of consternation on his face.

"You are Isabella Swan?" Isabella nodded her head.

"This way." The man pointed to an open door just beside the desk.

"Get Weber." He said to the desk clerk.

Isabella picked up her bags and followed the tall man. He led her through a few hallways to the back of the Inn. He held a door open for her and motioned for her to go ahead of him. Once through the door he pointed to a smaller building set away from the Inn. It was a large carriage house with what looked like living quarters above. He led her again to a stairway up to the living area. When she opened the door she saw that it was a dwelling rather than the dormitory she was expecting. She looked around the sitting room just off the entry. It was well appointed and comfortable looking although it could do with a good cleaning. The tall man stood by the door with his back to her. She waited patiently for him to give her instructions.

"You are not what I expected." He finally said after a very lengthy pause.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It was a very taxing journey. If you could show me to my room I can clean up before meeting Mr. Cullen and starting my work as housekeeper." Isabella was exhausted but could rally her courage to begin her new life.

"I am Mr. Cullen. This is your new home, not your place of employment. You are here to become my wife, not my housekeeper." The tall man did not even turn to face her as he destroyed her every perception.

"My uncle said I was to be a housekeeper at the Inn. Not your wife." Isabella's voice shook with terror.

"Your uncle told me you were pretty; I guess he lied to us both. Here's the Minister. Just do as you are told, do you understand? Answer every one of his questions with an affirmative." The tall man finally turned and fixed her with a glare.

"Yes, Sir." Isabella obeyed.

He opened the door for the Minister and his wife, Mrs. Weber. He greeted both in a very friendly manner, showing them into the parlour, leaving Isabella to follow behind them.

Brief introductions were made before the marriage ceremony began. Isabella did as she was told and answered in the affirmative to every question posed to her. In short order she found herself married to a man whose first name she still did not know.

The Webers politely refused the offer of tea made to them as they had other social obligations. Isabella took their best wishes for her future with a small smile.

After showing the Webers to the door, Isabella's new husband turned and surveyed her for a long moment.

"Your room is the last one on the left down that hallway. Get yourself cleaned up and ready. I will be back in a few hours. I have much to talk to you about tonight." With a slight nod of his head he left her alone.

Isabella gathered her things and slowly walked to her new room. It was pleasant enough, a small bed with a white counterpane, a washstand, dresser and wardrobe. Thin lace curtains covered the window that looked out over the back of the property. The land was flat and rolling. It was entirely different from coastal views Isabella was used to seeing. There was a large vegetable garden and a copse of tall trees. So far the view was the most pleasing thing Isabella had encountered in her new life. She set about unpacking and arranging her belongings. She wandered into the kitchen to heat some water to bathe. The kettle was full but cold. After stoking the fire and warming the water she bathed, redressed and then waited for her husband to return. She waited for hours.

The sky was darkening when he finally returned. He shouted her name as he closed the front door as if he expected her to be waiting in the foyer for his arrival. She walked as quickly as she could to find him waiting for her in the parlour.

"Have you eaten?" He asked as he removed his coat.

"No, sir." Isabella could not bring herself to look him in the eye.

"Why not?" His voice was deathly quiet.

"You told me to get cleaned up and wait for you."

"Do you always do as you are told, Isabella?"

"Yes, sir." Isabella was starting to feel as though this was a test and she was failing it badly.

"That bodes well for you then. Sit." He walked over to a cart in the corner and poured two glasses of amber liquid. He downed one glass and refilled it. He passed the other glass to Isabella as he took a seat across from her. She didn't know what it was that he gave her; she had never had spirits before, not even wine with a special dinner.

He sipped at the second glass he had poured himself while carefully studying Isabella. She sat very still, almost petrified as she held her glass with both hands.

He sighed and put his empty glass down.

"I am not an easy man. I have many rules and I expect you to follow them. First and foremost is that you remember that you are married to me. Your loyalty rests with me and me alone. I will not have a flirt or a coquette for a wife. If you are caught engaging with another man, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Until I can be sure of your behaviour you are to stay here at the carriage house and the garden behind it. You are not to enter the Inn for any reason other than someone's imminent death. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, I wrote to my cousins in Nova Scotia to help me find a wife of good deportment, fair looks and health. Instead, they sent me you. I need a wife because I need an heir to secure the rest of my inheritance. I've not been pleased with any of the ladies here and families in the coastal regions tend to be large and hearty. You are in no way able to provide me with an heir in your current condition. You must do everything you can to regain your strength and health so that I may prosper. I will not visit you at night until you have gained weight and bled three times. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, sir." Isabella felt a prickle at the back of her eyes. She did not want to cry in front of this man.

"Drink that." He barked at her. She took a small sip. He glared at her until she took more. The liquid burned her throat and she had to stifle a cough.

"I paid for first class travel for you. How did you get into this condition? Did you sell the tickets to buy a trinket or something? It is obvious that you did not use it for clothing as your wardrobe is atrocious, from what I've seen of it. I will have to send away for better fabrics. You do sew, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, I sew. I wasn't given tickets, sir. I had to work for my passage as a mother's helper. They didn't allow for much food or rest, sir. I swear I didn't sell the tickets, sir, it's not my place to do so." The prickles in her eyes got bigger and stronger.

"Pretty words. I shall have to write back east to verify them. Do you cook?"

"Yes, sir."

"I expect breakfast early, as the Inn is very busy. I will take my luncheon there, but I will want a light supper around this time every night. You will spend your time cleaning my home, tending the vegetable garden and sewing a new wardrobe. Isabella, I will be keeping a very sharp eye on you. Do not try to deceive me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now finish that drink. It will help you sleep."

Isabella drank it as fast as she could. She struggled to keep it down. She was fairly certain that if it were to make a reappearance he would not be pleased.

"Go to bed. The rooster will wake you in time to make breakfast." And with that, she was dismissed. She rushed off to her room. Her head was swimming, her thoughts jumbled and confused. She lay on the bed and fell asleep in very short order.

The rooster was successful in its job of waking Isabella. She rose quickly despite the ache in her head and muscles. She dressed as fast as she could and rushed to find the kitchen unoccupied. She had no idea what the tall man ate for breakfast. She rummaged around for something acceptable. She found eggs, bread, potatoes and jam. It would have to do for now.

Breakfast was nearly ready when he entered the kitchen. His hair was damp and combed straight back. He looked freshly shaved. He nodded at her and took a seat at the table. The only time he spoke was for her to refill his teacup. After he had finished eating he folded his napkin and left the room. It was only then that Isabella noticed how much her hands were shaking. She let out a huge gust of air and relaxed.

As she ate her own breakfast, she studied the kitchen to see where best to begin. It was a surprisingly cheerful room. There were little touches around that made Isabella confused. This was not a bachelor's kitchen. This kitchen had been decorated by a woman and judging by the thin layer of dust covering the surfaces, had not been cleaned for some time.

Isabella spent her morning attacking the kitchen and her afternoon with war in the parlour. Teatime was spent in the garden looking over the produce. There were the makings of a very nice light supper and the promise of more to come. She filled the small basket she had brought with her. When she finished and stood to stretch her limbs, she noticed someone watching her from the barn area of the carriage house. It was a tall man, but not her tall man; this was a stranger to her. The instant he tipped his hat in greeting she grabbed her basket and ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into the house. She shut the door behind her and rested her back on it. She was scared. Would he think her a flirt if she had accepted the greeting of this stranger? He had said there would be hell to pay if he caught her. Should she tell him about the stranger to ward off any punishment he might have for her?

Isabella thought over all sorts of different possibilities and scenarios as she prepared his dinner. When she was ready, she went to wait in the foyer for his arrival.

Mr. Cullen was surprised to see his new bride waiting for him. He hadn't told her to do so and did not expect her to in the future. That first revelation from him calmed Isabella slightly. It gave her a glimmer of hope for when she told him about that afternoon. She waited until he was fed before she made the effort.

She was nervous as he ate. Thankfully he offered no conversation save for requests for more. When he had finished and sat back to relax she knew it was time.

"There was a man in the garden today. He noticed me." She stared at her hands in her lap.

"I am well aware. He told me himself." He stood up from his place at the table and looked down at her.

"Follow me," was his only demand before he walked out of the room. He led her down the hallway to one of the rooms Isabella had not entered or cleaned that day. He held the door open and waited for her to walk inside. It was his bedroom.

Isabella did not know what to think. If this was punishment, why take her to another room? What was he going to do to her in his room?

He did not shut the door behind him but walked a few feet into the room and pointed at one corner, near his washstand.

There was a large basket overflowing with clothing.

"I would like you to launder those tomorrow. The washtub in under the stairs, I'll bring it up for you. After that you can freshen up this room, change the bedding and dust. There is also a basket of mending in the wardrobe, you can finish those at your leisure. Go straight to bed when you finish in the kitchen." With that he walked out of the room.

If laundry was her punishment she was very relieved. She had expected much worse from this man who seemed to have no emotion other than anger.

The days continued. A routine was established. Every few days the tall man delivered a new task to keep his bride occupied. A large selection of fabric was brought to the carriage house and he suggested that she start with winter dresses as the weather was turning colder. Bushels of vegetables from neighbouring farms were brought for canning. Many different kinds of fruit were brought for jams and preserves.

Isabella was very busy. Busy, tired and lonely. The tall man only spoke about the jobs he had for her. He never asked after her, never bothered to learn anything about her. He never mentioned the work she had done, not even to say thank you. He never offered any information about himself either. She knew as much about him as she did the first day they were married. She knew not to seem idle, she knew not to ask questions and she knew that her time was running out.

Isabella had gained weight. Her health was much improved. Her hair had returned to lush, shiny mass that was the one tangible reminder she had of her aunt and former home. Her aunt's hair had the same colour and texture. She was stronger. She slept well and felt refreshed upon waking. She had bled twice and by her estimation was due to start again in a few days.

Four months to the day of their marriage he asked the question that sent a panic deep into the heart of Isabella. Over dinner and out of nowhere he asked if she had bled three times.

"Yes, sir."

"When did you finish the last?"

"Last week."

"I'll see you in your room after your chores then. You know what is going to happen?"

"Yes, sir."

That was all the conversation held. He finished his meal and left the table. Isabella cleaned the kitchen and got a few things ready for breakfast. She walked into her bedroom as a prisoner to the dock. She washed herself and put on her nightgown. She sat on the end of her small bed and waited for her husband. She ran the lecture she had received from her Aunt over in her mind.

 _The first time will most likely hurt her or at the very least be uncomfortable. If her husband was a kind man he would do what he could to make the experience less awkward. If her husband was not a gentle man then the most she could hope for was that it would be over quickly. It would not hurt as much any time after that. There would most likely be bleeding but do not be too alarmed. This was a natural part of life and the only way to have children. It was a wife's duty and burden to bear. Over time it will get better._

Isabella did not know enough about her husband to be certain if he would be kind or if he would not. She had no choice in the matter either way. She belonged to this man and he wanted, no, needed children. This was his sole reason for marrying.

Although she knew what she had to do she was still afraid. The pain was her biggest fear but she also feared giving this man she knew almost nothing about access to her unclothed body. She was certain she would disappoint him some how. Nothing she had done to date seemed to please him.

He did not knock on her door but he cleared his throat just before entering. Isabella stood while he entered her room. She kept her eyes trained on the floor. She heard him walk around to the other side of the bed and pull the coverings down.

"Lie down. On your back," he said to her, his voice had a slightly deeper timbre than usual.

Isabella obeyed. Just before she lay down she noticed a piece of flannel folded over itself across the middle of the bed. She shuddered to think what it was for. She kept her eyes closed. He stood at the side of her bed and looked at her for a long moment before he reached for the hem of her nightgown. With a surprising gentleness he raised her gown up to the middle of her thighs before placing one of his knees on the bed and crawling over her. He put one foot between her ankles and moved her legs apart just enough for him to kneel inside the space.

Isabella chanced a look at him then. She wanted to see what kind of look he had on his face; to see if he looked angry or malicious. It held neither. In fact, she could not identify the emotion that played across his face. She saw that he was wearing a nightshirt of blue cotton. She recognized it from the mending pile but could not recall ever washing it with the other laundry. When he started to lean forward over her she closed her eyes and waited.

He rested his weight on one arm next to her head. He seemed to be fiddling with something much lower, Isabella could feel his other arm brushing against her leg. He then pushed her legs open more and moved his hand to the top of her thighs. She jumped and whimpered when she felt his hand between her legs. He moved his fingers around, searching for something before he took a deep breath. Something started pushing into her. It was an odd sensation until it became a painful burning one. Isabella's whimpers became louder the more he pushed into her. He brought his free hand up and covered her mouth so that she couldn't scream. He entered her quickly then, stopping to rest inside her with his body flush to hers. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and slid it under her shoulder. When he had her pinned in place he started to pull and push into her over and over again. It was still painful for Isabella but not as much as the initial breach. Soft groans and grunts were coming from his chest punctuating every thrust. The arm that had been beside her head moved and she felt him undo the buttons of her nightgown. He pulled the material to the side and uncovered one of her breasts. Her eyes flew open when he lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth. He squeezed the breast firmly but not too hard. It felt almost pleasant for Isabella. The feeling distracted her a bit from what he was doing between her legs. She closed her eyes again. The grunts increased in volume as he increased the speed of his thrusting until he stilled. He released her breast and let out a loud moan. His body was rigid for a moment before he collapsed onto her chest. His breath was coming out in pants and he was slick with perspiration.

When he had calmed himself, he rose up again and she could sense him looking at her. She refused to open her eyes. A few tears had escaped and ran down her temples. She wanted to wipe them away but she was afraid that that would anger him. He backed away from her, slowly. She could feel that part of him slide out of her and she wondered what it looked like. It had felt absolutely enormous as it penetrated her but it seemed much smaller now. He rolled over and rested for a few moments before he stood up and walked to the door. He paused just as he opened the door. Isabella lay there with her eyes still closed. She thought she heard him say _thank you_ very quietly before he left the room.

Isabella was unsure when she had fallen asleep. She had lain there feeling cold and sullied for a long time. She cried muffling her sobs with her fist. At some point in the night she had retrieved the blankets and covered herself. She woke up sore and very uncomfortable. As she rose from the bed she noticed the stain of blood on the flannel. There was, however, a small glimmer of hope in her waking. She thought, perhaps, that her husband, the tall man might become more favourable towards her now that she was able to fulfill one of the more important of her wifely duties. Maybe the pleasure he seemed to gain from her body would soften his demeanour.

She was wrong.

There was no change to his behaviour. He still barely spoke to her. He ate the meals she cooked and wore the clothes she tended. He visited her every night in her bed. After a few days she began to wonder if there was something she was doing wrong during his nightly visits. The time he spent in her room became longer and longer. He did not often take her breast in his mouth again as he had done that first night. Maybe he was not deriving all the pleasure he could and her comportment during his nightly visits was lacking. She resolved to try harder.

That night she tried to keep her eyes open to watch him. She noticed that he barely kept his eyes open either. When his thrusting became irregular and frantic she raised one hand and gently caressed the back of his neck at his hairline. He had such lovely coloured hair that was as soft as it looked. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. It was as if he hadn't even noticed that she was there. There was a look of shock and surprise on his face. He finished quickly and then left the room as soon as he was able. She would not make that mistake again.

For a fortnight he visited her and then, with no warning he stopped. He left her alone for sixteen days before asking her if she had bled again. Feeling like a failure, she just nodded at him.

This became their new routine. He would come to her room nightly for just over two weeks and then stop. Just after she bled he would start again. There was no intimacy or affection. There were no recriminations or punishments. It was just that way. But he still whispered _thank you_ every time.

Isabella was woefully unprepared for the harsh winter of the prairies. The dry cold that never left. The huge piles of snow that made it almost impossible to venture outside. Her hands became chapped and raw with her daily chores. Meals became monotonous with little variety in the offerings.

After four months of Isabella's continuing failure to become with child she felt defeated. She waited patiently for him to cast her out of the house or chastise her. She expected some sort of punishment for her failings. One day, a few months into their routine, he shattered all her illusions. Mid-afternoon, when she was elbow-deep in bread dough, she heard the front door slam so hard it rattled the dishes in the cupboards. She wiped her hands and carefully walked out into the hallway to see what was happening. She saw him, bottle in hand, just as he stumbled his way into his own bedroom. She was too frightened to ask what was the matter was. She listened from the safety of the kitchen as he stormed about his room. There were sounds of furniture crashing and glass shattering. He shouted words she did not understand or fully hear. After a while, a deathly silence came over the house. She continued with her chores, finishing the bread baking and preparing his dinner. It took her hours to gather up the courage to knock on his door and offer him his evening meal.

She barely recognized the man that answered the door. He looked crazed. She repeated her offer of food. He glared at her, swaying slightly on his feet. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her own bedroom. He flung her face first on to her bed and she stayed there not wanting to anger him further. She heard the sound of his belt opening and thought that it had finally reached the time for him to punish her. She thought he was going to beat her with his belt. He gathered the material of her skirts and hoisted them up and over her head revealing her drawers. She waited for the first blow. Instead of striking her, he abruptly left the room slamming the door behind him.

Isabella stayed in her room for two days, cowering on her bed until the smell from the chamber pot became unbearable. She had heard no noises in the house for several hours so she opened her door as quietly as she could and peeked out her head. When she didn't see him, she ran to the kitchen and out the back door. She emptied the pot and relieved herself in the outhouse before going back into his home. Dressed only in her nightgown and robe she felt as though she would freeze solid before entering the house. When she came back into the kitchen she gave a little scream of surprise at the sight of him sitting at the table. He hadn't been there when she ran out. The table was still set for the dinner neither of them ate.

"Please, Isabella. I won't harm you. Please sit." He slowly stood and gestured to her place at the table.

She put the chamber pot down, walked over to the sink and washed her hands in the now cold water that had been waiting for the dinner dishes. She sat in her place and kept her eyes on the plate in front of her. The food had dried and discoloured in the two days it sat on the table.

"I'm going to make tea," he said.

She listened to the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. She knew she should get up and make the tea herself, it was her job after all, but he had told her to sit and she did not want to anger him further. She jumped with fright when he reached over her to take the ruined dinner plate away. He put a tray piled high with a tea service and fresh sweet buns on the table and took his own seat.

"Please, eat. I got them from the cook at the Inn. I know you must be hungry. Would you like some tea?" He spoke so gently, so calmly, but it did nothing to chase away her fears.

"Yes, sir," she finally managed to say out loud after whispering it twice.

He put sugar and milk into both cups he had brought to the table and carefully poured the steaming hot tea over them. He slid one cup over to her before placing two of the sweet buns on a plate and sliding that over too. He sat back in his chair with his own teacup and waited.

Isabella let her thirst and hunger get the better of her senses. She drank the tea quickly, savouring it's warmth. She picked at the sweet, sticky bun. She was in no hurry to engage her husband in conversation. He sat drinking his own tea and watching every move she made. When finally he could wait no longer, he cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair.

"If you will permit me, I'd like to speak with you about a few things, Isabella."

Isabella let her hands drop to her lap, her meal forgotten despite her hunger. This was it; this was the time when he told her he had no more use for her. She would be turned out to the streets and forced to survive on her own. Perhaps she could find work and lodging somewhere nearby. She couldn't go back to Nova Scotia. The travel expense was too dire and she wasn't sure her family would take her back now that she was a fallen woman.

"Yes, sir." She waited.

"I owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you much more than that, Isabella. I know no way to repay or repair the damage I have done to you, except for a paltry apology. Please, Isabella. I am so sorry for what I have done to you."

Her head snapped up and she looked her husband in the eye for the first time in months. His face held a look of sincere pain and torment.

"I can only offer you excuses for my behaviour and pray that you can find it within yourself to eventually forgive me. If you feel you cannot, well, I am not sure what can be done then but I will find a solution. I was blinded, deceived and lied to. I took my anger out on you. I told you the day we wed that I was not an easy man. I used to be; a few years ago I was a good, kind man who loved to laugh. When I first arrived here and bought the Inn I was happy. My business was successful and with the urging of my family I started to look for a wife. My grandfather's will demanded I be married and have an heir to fully inherit. But more than that, I wanted someone to share my life with."

He stopped speaking and collected his thoughts.

"It was mid summer, a few years ago that I first met Mary Alice. Her father was leading an expedition up the Red River from the Mississippi River. It had taken them much longer than they had planned so they decided to explore the area. They stayed here, of course, because we are so close to where the Red and Assiniboine Rivers cross. It was as if lightening had struck me when I first saw her. She was lovely, like a little porcelain doll. She had the most delightful way of speaking. We fell in love. We were so happy. She agreed to be my wife and her father allowed the match. She helped decorate this carriage house to be our home."

He looked around the room. There were still little touches of Mary Alice here and there. He just then realized that there was nothing of Isabella in this room, or in the entire house. She had not changed even the smallest of objects. When she cleaned she made certain to put everything back in it's original place lest he notice. It pained him to have proof of just how downtrodden she was and it was all his fault.

"Unfortunately she contracted Yellow Fever in a small outbreak and she was too small and frail to survive it. I was devastated. I wallowed in self-pity for months before my family pushed me to get settled. I hadn't the heart to woo a woman or court her. My cousin suggested that perhaps an arranged marriage would be best. I could find a wife and learn to love her over time. He knew your uncle had a daughter that was of marrying age. He said she was pretty, healthy and from a large family.

"I wrote to your uncle but he refused the idea of marriage to his daughter, he suggested you instead. He said you were almost as pretty, a little bit younger but better suited to colonial living and more accomplished in domestic duties. I agreed and sent ample money for your passage. The day before you were to arrive, a letter came from your uncle. It was horrible and hateful. I'll spare you the details." He paused to pour another cup of tea.

"Don't," Isabella said, surprising them both.

"No more tea?" He looked at her, puzzled for it was the first time she had said anything other than 'yes sir' in months.

"Please, sir, don't spare me the details." She did not know where she got the courage to speak. She wanted to know what her uncle had said to make this man treat her so badly. She wanted to know what crimes she was being punished for unjustly. She knew her uncle never liked her. He had no use for her, she had overheard him and her aunt arguing about her a few times before.

"If you are sure?" He sighed. She only nodded her head.

"He said now that you were out of his house he could safely tell me what kind of woman you were. He said it was too late to back out of the agreement and that I had already paid for you. He said that you were an incorrigible flirt to the point where he wasn't certain that you were pure. He said you stole money from him, tormented his children and wife, that you were lazy and willful. He said that he caught you drinking his spirits. He said that they were well rid of you."

He told her everything, knowing how much it would hurt her. It would hurt her almost as much in the hearing of it as it did him in the telling.

"Due to the things he said about you, I decided that I would meet the train and send you back. But your train was early and my desk clerk knew I was awaiting my bride when you showed up here. He was sure to tell everyone and I was trapped. Trapped and very angry. I had to marry you to save face and so I did. You arrived here looking like death was chasing you; you were so thin. It made you very unattractive.

"After we had been married I went back to my office at the Inn and I formulated a plan. I was determined to mould you into a proper wife. To keep you away from other men. To break your spirit. As well, I still needed an heir. I thought that waiting three months could prove that any child born would be mine."

He stopped for a moment to drink more tea.

"When I came back home and discovered you waiting patiently, still hungry from your travels but obedient, I wondered just how much I had been deceived. I laid down my rules. I was deliberately rude to provoke you. I gave you Brandy to drink and it was obvious you had never touched spirits before. All you ever said was 'yes, sir'.

"I asked one of the grooms to spy on you so I could catch you flirting. However, you ran from him and told me immediately. I gave you more work than I thought possible for one woman to do and you did it all with out complaint. You took care of my home, my clothes, and my meals. You never asked for anything, not even my attention. I wrote to my cousin and asked him to find the truth. I decided to keep to my plan until I heard back from him."

Isabella wondered why, if she had done everything correctly as he ordered, he still insisted on punishing her for the lies of someone else.

He saw her as she seemed to retreat more and more into herself. It was as if she was shrinking before his eyes. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it slightly to feel a little pain. The sharp ache in his scalp did not have any redemptive value for him. He soldiered on with his story.

"In the meantime, you blossomed. You gained weight and became very pretty. Your hair is your crowning feature but your face and figure, well, you are a very attractive girl, Isabella. I found it hard to resist you. When I knew you had bled three times and could not be with another man's child, the rest of my plan went into action."

He stood up and started pacing across the kitchen.

"I came to your room and found you to be pure. I had been treating you so poorly even when I found that most of the things your uncle accused you of were false. I felt wretched, but I needed a child and you are my wife. I justified my actions by thanking you. I thought that once an heir was born I would leave you alone. But month after month there was no baby and I was losing hope.

"The other day, I finally received word from my cousin. He said Dwyer lied about everything. He spoke to Dwyer, threatened him actually, to get the truth. Your uncle was angry with you because his daughter had accepted the hand of a man he deemed unworthy of her position. He said that raising you lowered his family's standing. Dwyer took the money I sent for your passage and made you work off your fare. Dwyer has lost his position at the shipyard and has taken to the bottle. Your aunt and cousins have left him. They are safe with her parents."

He paused again and noticed the tears on her cheeks. He longed to wipe them away but he knew he had yet to earn the right to touch her again. There was much more he had to tell her.

"So I grabbed the nearest bottle and tried to drown myself in alcohol. When you knocked on my door I was still so angry, with myself for believing the lies and with him for the lying. You stood outside my door looking so lovely but concerned for me. I did not deserve your concern. I had already destroyed my bedroom and I was afraid that I would destroy you too. I had to get you away from me but when I saw you lying on your bed, well, my thoughts were not gentlemanly. I started to-I wanted to. It was as if my vision was shrouded. I was going to do horrible things to you before I came to my senses and ran out of the room.

"He lied to me and I believed him. I treated you horribly for no reason. If I had just spoken to you, trusted you, we could have been happy by now. But you are terrified of me. I can see it. I am so sorry, Isabella."

He stopped his pacing and fell to his knees in front of her. He reached for and took hold of both her hands.

"Please help me, Isabella. Even though I've been a horrible husband, you are still my wife and I still need you. I promise I will change. I promise to be kind and gentle. I promise to be a better man, one that could, possibly be worthy of you. I would like to get to know you. To perhaps build a proper marriage between us. To try. Please say you'll let us try, Isabella."

 _Epilogue_ _Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada 1879_

The very portly midwife gently passed the well-wrapped infant to his waiting father. The tall man glowed with pride.

"Hello, son," he whispered as he stroked one downy cheek.

"And a fine boy he is, sir." The midwife laughed at the man.

"My wife?" he asked with a look of concern on his face.

"Isabella is just fine, sir, a little tired. So, what is the little man's name?" The tall man relaxed, relieved to find his beloved wife well.

"Well, we named our first son after my cousin, who helped us a great deal. And the second after my father, of course. The girls both have their own names, not family names. But this one gets my name, isn't that right, Junior?" he said as he swayed, holding tightly to his son.

 _The End_

 **AN:** **This was, is my entry in the Caveat Emptor: Maybe an HEA contest. There is not a chance in hell this story would ever have been read by or accepted by those who ran the contest without beachcomberlc. She took my clumsy words and polished them, she removed all of my extra useless commas and helped me get over my phobia of semi-colons. She put up with my oddities and I am forever grateful. I've tried very hard to leave her alone and not harass her too much but no that the contest has ended... If this story is expanded and turned into a multi-chapter fic it will be because beachcomberlc is willing to put up with me again. Maybe if we all send her chocolate she'll agree?**

 **After beach worked her magic, I sent the story to SunflowerFran to pre-read. She offered her wisdom and I thank her for it on bended knee.**

 **Much to my surprise, this story won third place judges vote and Jonesn's pick. If I had known who the other entrants were, I would never had entered. To be up against such big talents and names is terrifying. A well deserved congratulations to everyone who entered the contest.**

 **Thank you to everyone who volunteered to beta for me. It makes my heart sing to have so many willing, helpful people in my life.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

 _Annapolis Royal_ _,_ Nova Scotia _,_ Canada _, 1850s_

If it had not been for her aunt's sense of family, Isabella would have died shortly after her birth. The same birth that killed her mother. Her mother Marie was a simple-minded young girl who was seduced by a smooth talking French sailor on leave in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Marie had been working in the port city as a laundress. She had no idea that the relations she had had with her sailor would result in a child. When she was dismissed from her job for being a slattern, after losing her morning meal in a tub of clean clothing, one of the girls in her boarding house took pity on her and explained what was happening. She sold everything she could, save her body, and purchased rail travel back to Annapolis Royal on Nova Scotia's southern shore. Her father did not welcome her back with open arms, in fact, he had her mother strike her name from the family bible. As a staunchly Catholic Acadian family, their younger daughter's fall from grace would only reflect badly upon them in the eyes of their church.

Her sister Renee took pity on her and, with her husband's permission, allowed her to live out her pregnancy at their home as long as she stayed out of view of society. Renee had married well to an English naval officer, Phillip Dwyer. He was not pleased with Renee's sense of charity, but was well pleased with Renee. She had provided him a well cared for home and many lovely children. Renee had worked very hard to rid herself of all traces of her Acadian speech and she fit in well with all the other officers' wives. Marie helped take care of her sister's house for as long as she was able but gave birth to her daughter early and died of the effort. She did not even have time to name her child. Renee christened her Isabella after their maternal grandmother and raised her as best she could. Phillip refused to give the girl his name and as they did not know the name of the French sailor who fathered her, he opened the Bible, closed his eyes, pointed and found a surname for the little bastard. He giggled with delight when he read the name he had unconsciously chosen; Swan, an unclean bird from Leviticus 11:18. To him it seemed fitting.

Her aunt tried to give her as much love as she could but was hindered by Ship's Master Dwyer. He made sure that his children received the best of everything and if there was anything left over it could go to Isabella. Isabella fell directly in the middle of the family order. There were two boys and a girl older than her, and two girls and a boy younger. Isabella was eighteen months younger than her eldest female cousin.

Isabella's childhood was unremarkable. She ate, she slept, she worked, she learned. Most importantly, she obeyed. She knew no better than to obey. Her uncle felt as though he ruled the house as he ruled his ship. His wife was given respect as a valued member of the crew. His children were just under her in command. The servants were given their due as hard workers. However, Isabella, in his eyes was the lowliest of those under his command. As much as her aunt tried to include her and treat her with kindness, her uncle disliked her. She was given chores when her cousins were not. There were expectations placed on her inclusion into the household. Her clothing was ill-fitting as it came from the dregs of the wardrobes of the ones older than her.

When visitors came to the house she was to remain in the kitchen, unseen. She was to remain quiet until speech was demanded of her. She wasn't to play with the children unless they specifically asked their father for her and she had finished her chores.

Her aunt broke the rules by teaching the girl to read and to work her sums. This education was done whenever Ship's Master Dwyer was at sea. Many of the rules were loosened when Ship's Master Dwyer was at sea, but not so many that the other children could notice and inform on her. The children thought nothing of the separation between them and Isabella. They knew she was lower than them in the hierarchy of the family and accepted that as due.

Although she was never beaten or abused, Isabella grew up to be slender and timid, withdrawn and shy. She learned at an early age the rights that men had over their families. Although she yearned for the freedoms her cousins were granted, she knew that the circumstances of her birth did not allow for them. She was resigned to her fate and knew that she would spend her life in the service of others.

At the age of sixteen, the eldest daughter was sent to finishing school to help her prepare to make a suitable marriage. One of Isabella's tasks was to ready a new wardrobe for her cousin. Ship's Master Dwyer spared no expense in the purchase of fine silks and taffetas that Isabella was to sew into the latest fashions. So as not to impede his daughter's success, Ship's Master Dwyer sat his wife down and informed her that he had secured a respectable position for Isabella. She would, of course, not be attending finishing school when she turned sixteen but would travel out west instead. He had everything arranged; Isabella would start her journey in the spring. She would be chaperoned on the almost three thousand mile journey in exchange for her services as a mother's helper. By the time she would arrive in Rupert's Land she would be sixteen and employed. Her gentleman employer was of very good reputation and had a stellar family.

Renee spent the winter teaching Isabella everything she could to help her in her new life as an Inn's housekeeper. As she was the only child in the household to have chores, Isabella was fairly adept at housekeeping. She learned her lessons quickly and well. Renee had a very frank and truthful lecture for Isabella about the ways between a man and his wife in the eventuality that Isabella found a husband. Renee did not want what happened to her sister to happen again. Braced with her new knowledge, her baggage, and a few coins, Isabella set off at the end of March. As prepared as she was for the adventure, Isabella was terrified. To be sent away from everything she had known to a very uncertain future brought a fear that plagued her nights.

Ship's Master Dwyer deposited her at the train station, briefly introducing her to the family she was to travel with. They were minor Russian aristocracy and believed themselves much better than everyone they had met in their new country. There were four children that Isabella was charged to look after during the journey.

The Russians had more money than sense and had chosen a travel plan that incorporated as many modes of transportation as possible. Isabella was treated as less than the lowliest of servants, given meager rations and accommodations. When they travelled by rail she was made to sleep on the floor of the children's compartment. When they voyaged by water she was given no blankets as the Lady was chilled, and made to sleep in the bowels of the ship. When they travelled by carriage she was to ride with the driver in the open air, regardless of the weather. Over the months that it took to arrive in Rupert's Land, Isabella lost all of the slight plumpness of childhood and became nearly skeletal and drawn. There was no longer a rosy glow on her cheeks and her hair was limp and matted. Daily cold washings had left her clean but her skin was chafed and raw. She had left Nova Scotia a plain but pleasant-looking girl; she was that no longer. She was unceremoniously dropped off at the rail station in Fort Rouge with her baggage and two pounds sterling. The Russians were travelling further west in an effort to conquer this new land and set up a dynasty of their own. Isabella was replaced by a young Métis girl. Isabella wanted to warn the poor child and let her know the difficulties she had in store, but the patriarch of the family would not allow her to speak to the new girl.

After getting directions to the Inn near Fort Garry, Isabella set off on foot to her new home. The air was hot and dry, completely different from the sea air she had grown up with. A fine layer of dust settled on her skin and dress by the time she arrived at the Inn. A large sign proclaiming Inn at the Forks announced her arrival. The Inn was located near where two rivers crossed each other. Isabella knew that they were named the Red River and the Assiniboine. The gentleman at the train station had told her. She had no idea which was which, however. Neither of them were actually red, and Isabella had never heard the word Assiniboine before. There were large trees along the very high banks of the rivers. The banks were so high they looked to Isabella like small dirt cliffs.

The building was bigger than any she had ever seen and she wondered how she was to clean it all. There was a large deep porch running the length of the front of the building, much deeper than any she has seen before in Nova Scotia. The house was whitewashed and very clean looking on the outside. Perhaps there would be another maid or two to help her clean the inside. She dearly hoped that she would not have to maintain the outside of the large building as well.

She tried to brush the dust off her dress before walking into the main reception hall to find her employer, but is was a bit of a lost cause for no amount of brushing would dislodge the dust.

A cheery peal of bells sounded as she opened the door. The young man at the counter took in the sight of travel-weary Isabella and smiled at her. He was a genial looking young man with sandy coloured hair and warm brown eyes. She walked to the desk and put her baggage on the floor.

"Good day, Miss. Welcome to The Inn at the Forks. Do you have a reservation?" The young clerk was very eager in his practised speech.

"I am Isabella Swan. I'm to see Mr. Cullen."

The young man at the counter nodded and left the desk. He came back minutes later with a tall man, who had a look of consternation on his face.

"You are Isabella Swan?" Isabella could hear the displeasure in his voice. She felt ashamed of her clothing and her very being. She wanted nothing more than to slink back out the door and leave this place. Instead, Isabella nodded her head.

"This way." The man pointed to an open door just beside the desk.

"Get Weber." He said to the desk clerk.

Isabella picked up her bags and followed the tall man. He led her through a few hallways to the back of the Inn. He held a door open for her and motioned for her to go ahead of him. Once through the door, he pointed to a smaller building set away from the Inn. It was a large carriage house with what looked like living quarters above. It was a very pretty little building, very similar to the large inn as in it was painted the same white with dark brown trim. He led her again to a stairway built to the side and up to what could be the living area.

When she opened the door she saw that it was a dwelling rather than the dormitory she was expecting. She looked around the sitting room just off the entry. It was well appointed and comfortable looking although it could do with a good cleaning. The tall man stood by the door with his back to her. She waited patiently for him to give her instructions.

For a long time the tall man just stood there. He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was combed straight back on his head and set in place with some sort of pomade. It was difficult to determine the actual colour but it seemed to be neither light nor dark.

"You are not what I expected." He finally said after a very lengthy pause.

"I'm sorry, Sir. It was a very taxing journey. If you could show me to my room I can clean up before meeting Mr. Cullen and starting my work as housekeeper." Isabella was exhausted but could rally her courage to begin her new life.

"I am Mr. Cullen. This is your new home, not your place of employment. You are here to become my wife, not my housekeeper." The tall man did not even turn to face her as he destroyed her every perception.

"My uncle said I was to be a housekeeper at the Inn. Not your wife." Isabella's voice shook with terror.

"Your uncle told me you were pretty; I guess he lied to us both. Here's the minister. Just do as you are told, do you understand? Answer every one of his questions with an affirmative." The tall man finally turned and fixed her with a glare. She had seen that look of displeasure in her uncle's eye many a time and knew, without a doubt, that not agreeing with him would have dire consequences.

"Yes, sir." Isabella obeyed. Her thoughts were spinning in her head. She was to marry this man. She was to make him a home and care for him as a wife would. All the lessons from her aunt ran through her head. She had thought that she would have years before being faced with marriage. In many ways she was still very young and afraid. However, she knew she had no other options. She was in a strange land, very far away from a less than loving home. She had no resources to return to Nova Scotia even if she were welcome there. Her mother's family refused to acknowledge her and she knew her uncle would not let her back in his house. There was no one to look out for her, save herself.

He opened the door for the minister and his wife, Mrs. Weber. He greeted both in a very friendly manner, showing them into the parlour, leaving Isabella to follow behind them.

Brief introductions were made before the marriage ceremony began. Isabella did as she was told and answered in the affirmative to every question posed to her. In short order she found herself married to a man whose first name she still did not know.

The Webers politely refused the offer of tea made to them as they had other social obligations. Isabella took their best wishes for her future with a small smile. She was thankful for the small kiss Mrs. Weber placed on her cheek as it was the first bit of affection she had received in months although it did nothing to quell her fears.

After showing the Webers to the door, Isabella's new husband turned and surveyed her for a long moment. She knew she was lacking, but under his gaze she came to realize just how much.

"Your room is the last one on the left down that hallway. Get yourself cleaned up and ready. I will be back in a few hours. I have much to talk to you about tonight." With a slight nod of his head he left her alone.

 **AN: I highly doubt there will be any amusing or snarky end notes for this story. I don't know of a way to inject humour into this, maybe near the end.**

 **The next four chapters are an expansion of the o/s. New material will be posted as soon, in chapter 6. This story will post every Friday, barring any unforeseen circumstances. This is not a happy, fluffy story but I do ask for your faith.**

 **I owe everything to beachcomberlc for her charm and ability to use semi-colons.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 2

Isabella gathered her things and slowly walked to her new room. It was pleasant enough, a small bed with a white counterpane, a washstand, dresser and wardrobe. The walls were painted a soft grey. Thin lace curtains covered the window that looked out over the back of the property. The land was flat and rolling. It was entirely different from coastal views Isabella was used to seeing. There was no coastline. There were no rocky crags to climb. No gulls dancing in the air. There was no smell of brine and sea life. No ships to watch come and go. No sailors singing shanties as they performed their duties. It was very quiet here even with the large town that surrounded the Inn.

There was a large vegetable garden and a copse of tall trees. So far the view was the most pleasing thing Isabella had encountered in her new life. She set about unpacking and arranging her belongings in her new room.

When she had finished her chore, she wandered into the kitchen to heat some water to bathe. The kettle was full but cold. After stoking the fire and warming the water she bathed, redressed and then waited for her husband to return. She waited for hours. She had no idea what her new husband would require of her

The sky was darkening when he finally returned. Isabella had been standing at the window in her room watching the sun set and the world turn to darkness. It had been a glorious sight. She felt as though she could see forever as she looked out at the horizon. He shouted her name as he closed the front door as if he expected her to be waiting in the foyer for his arrival. She walked as quickly as she could to find him waiting for her in the parlour.

"Have you eaten?" He asked as he removed his coat.

"No, sir." Isabella could not bring herself to look him in the eye. She hadn't dared to eat anything or to prepare anything for him. She did not want to offend him by rummaging through his kitchen without his express permission. Even if she was now the lady of the house, he was the ruler as the man.

"Why not?" His voice was deathly quiet. He gestured for her to sit on a spindly looking settee.

"You told me to get cleaned up and wait for you." She sat very carefully at the very front edge of the bench.

"Do you always do as you are told, Isabella?" He arched one thick eyebrow at her as if challenging her.

"Yes, sir." Isabella was starting to feel as though this was a test and she was failing it badly. From time immemorial she had done as she was told, not daring to voice her own wants, needs or desires.

"That bodes well for you then. Sit." He walked over to a cart in the corner and poured two glasses of amber liquid. He downed one glass and refilled it. He passed the other glass to Isabella as he took a seat across from her. She didn't know what it was that he gave her; she had never had spirits before, not even wine with a special dinner. Not that there had been many special dinners in her life. Christmas was one of the only occasions where she was allowed at the family table when her uncle was in town.

He sipped at the second glass he had poured himself while carefully studying Isabella. She sat very still, almost petrified as she held her glass with both hands.

He sighed and put his empty glass down.

"I am not an easy man. I have many rules and I expect you to follow them. First and foremost is that you remember that you are married to me. Your loyalty rests with me and me alone. I will not have a flirt or a coquette for a wife. If you are caught engaging with another man, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Until I can be sure of your behaviour you are to stay here at the carriage house and the garden behind it. You are not to enter the Inn for any reason other than someone's imminent death. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, previously I wrote to my cousins in Nova Scotia to help me find a wife of good deportment, fair looks and health. Instead, they sent me you. Your uncle recommended you, although right now I'm not sure why. I need a wife because I need an heir to secure the rest of my inheritance. I've not been pleased with any of the ladies here and families in the coastal regions tend to be large and hearty. You are in no way able to provide me with an heir in your current condition. You are much too thin and weak to carry my child successfully. You must do everything you can to regain your strength and health so that I may prosper. I will not visit you at night until you have gained weight and bled three times. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, sir." Isabella felt a prickle at the back of her eyes. She did not want to cry in front of this man. She unfortunately knew exactly to what he was referring.

"Drink that." He barked at her. She took a small sip. He glared at her until she took more. The liquid burned her throat and she had to stifle a cough. It was one of the most vile things she had ever had to swallow.

"I paid for first class travel for you. How did you get into this condition? Did you sell the tickets to buy a trinket or something? It is obvious that you did not use it for clothing as your wardrobe is atrocious, from what I've seen of it. I will have to send away for better fabrics. You do sew, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, I sew. I wasn't given tickets, sir. I had to work for my passage as a mother's helper. They didn't allow for much food or rest, sir. I swear I didn't sell the tickets, sir, it's not my place to do so." The prickles in her eyes got bigger and stronger. The look of ire on his face made her regret ever speaking even though his statement needed an answer.

"Pretty words. I shall have to write back east to verify them. Do you cook?"

"Yes, sir."

"I expect breakfast early, as the Inn is very busy. I will take my luncheon there, but I will want a light supper around this time every night. You will spend your time cleaning my home, tending the vegetable garden and sewing a new wardrobe. Isabella, I will be keeping a very sharp eye on you. Do not try to deceive me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now finish that drink. It will help you sleep." He finished his drink as he watched her. Isabella drank it as fast as she could. She struggled to keep it down. She was fairly certain that if it were to make a reappearance he would not be pleased.

"Go to bed. The rooster will wake you in time to make breakfast." And with that, she was dismissed. She rushed off to her room. Her head was swimming, her thoughts jumbled and confused. She retched the foul liquid into the chamber pot as quietly as she could. She sobbed just as quietly, feeling for all the world that she had traded one hell for another worse than the first. At least at home she had had her aunt to give her a little bit of hope. She felt completely forsaken now. She lay on the bed and fell asleep in very short order.

The rooster was successful in its job of waking Isabella. Quickly she rose, despite the ache in her head and muscles. She dressed as fast as she could and rushed to find the kitchen unoccupied. She had no idea what the tall man ate for breakfast. She rummaged around for something acceptable. She found eggs, bread, potatoes and jam. It would have to do for now.

Breakfast was nearly ready when he entered the kitchen. His hair was damp and combed straight back. He looked freshly shaved. He nodded at her and took a seat at the table. The only time he spoke was for her to refill his teacup. After he had finished eating he folded his napkin and left the room. It was only then that Isabella noticed how much her hands were shaking. She let out a huge gust of air and relaxed.

As she ate her own breakfast, she studied the kitchen to see where best to begin. It was a surprisingly cheerful room. There were little touches around that made Isabella confused. This was not a bachelor's kitchen. Sprigs of dried flowers and herbs hung from the rafters tied there with pretty ribbon. Neat jars filled with staples of sugar, flour, tea and such were arranged in a pleasant grouping on the counter. The curtains were a floral pattern and tied back with more of the ribbon from the rafters. The walls were a cheery pale yellow like the morning sun. This kitchen had been decorated by a woman and judging by the thin layer of dust covering the surfaces, had not been cleaned for some time. It had been tidied and used, but not really cleaned. Not as a woman would clean it.

Isabella spent her morning attacking the kitchen and her afternoon with war in the parlour. Teatime was spent in the garden looking over the produce. There were the makings of a very nice light supper and the promise of more to come. She filled the small basket she had brought with her. When she finished and stood to stretch her limbs, she noticed someone watching her from the barn area of the carriage house. It was a tall man, but not her tall man; this was a stranger to her. The instant he tipped his hat in greeting she grabbed her basket and ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into the house. She shut the door behind her and rested her back on it. She was scared. Would her tall man think her a flirt if she had accepted the greeting of this stranger? He had said there would be hell to pay if he caught her. Should she tell him about the stranger to ward off any punishment he might have for her?

Isabella thought over all sorts of different possibilities and scenarios as she prepared his dinner. When she was ready, she went to wait in the foyer for his arrival. She stood waiting at the door becoming more and more nervous by each tick of the clock.

Mr. Cullen was surprised to see his new bride waiting for him. He hadn't told her to do so and did not expect her to in the future. He made sure to tell her in no uncertain terms. That first revelation from him calmed Isabella slightly. It gave her a glimmer of hope for when she told him about that afternoon. She waited until he was fed before she made the effort.

She was nervous as he ate. Thankfully he offered no conversation save for requests for more. When he had finished and sat back to relax she knew it was time.

"There was a man in the garden today. He noticed me." She stared at her hands in her lap.

"I am well aware. He told me himself." He stood up from his place at the table and looked down at her. He didn't tell her that he had asked his groom to try to make her acquaintance, to see if she was the flirt her uncle said her to be. It was one of his first tests for his bride.

"Follow me," was his only demand before he walked out of the room. He led her down the hallway to one of the rooms Isabella had not entered or cleaned that day. He held the door open and waited for her to walk inside. It was his bedroom.

Isabella did not know what to think. If this was punishment, why take her to another room? What was he going to do to her in his room?

He did not shut the door behind him but walked a few feet into the room and pointed at one corner, near his washstand.

There was a large basket overflowing with clothing.

"I would like you to launder those tomorrow. The washtub in under the stairs, I'll bring it up for you. There are several large rain barrels out back you can use to fill them. Keep the wastewater for housecleaning or to water the garden. You must remember to cover the rain barrels every time you use them. Mosquitoes love open standing water. After that you can freshen up this room, change the bedding and dust. There is also a basket of mending in the wardrobe, you can finish those at your leisure. I want this room cleaned weekly as part of your routine. Go straight to bed when you finish in the kitchen." With that he walked out of the room.

If laundry was her punishment she was very relieved. She had expected much worse from this man who seemed to have no emotion other than anger.

The days continued. A routine was established. Once all the rooms had been given a thorough scrub, the maintenance of them became much easier. The home was much smaller than her uncle's house. There were only three bedrooms, the parlour, kitchen and the tall man's study. Every few days the tall man delivered a new task to keep his bride occupied. A large selection of fabric was brought to the carriage house and he suggested that she start with winter dresses, as the weather was turning colder. He also presented her a book of dress patterns with several of them marked as acceptable. Bushels of vegetables from neighbouring farms were brought for canning. Many different kinds of fruit were brought for jams and preserves. Hams, bacon and the most oddly coloured smoked and dried fish were hung in the pantry for winter use.

Isabella was very busy. Busy, tired and lonely. The tall man only spoke about the jobs he had for her. He never asked after her, never bothered to learn anything about her. He never mentioned the work she had done, not even to say thank you. He never offered any information about himself either. She knew as much about him as she did the first day they were married. She knew not to seem idle, she knew not to ask questions and she knew that her time was running out.

Isabella had gained weight. Her health was much improved. The fresh farm produce, the clean prairie air and the extended exercise of her chores had all helped to restore her. Her hair had returned to a lush, shiny mass that was the one tangible reminder she had of her aunt and former home. Her aunt's hair had the same colour and texture. She was stronger. She slept well and felt refreshed upon waking. She had bled twice and by her estimation was due to start again in a few days.

Four months to the day of their marriage, he asked the question that sent a panic deep into the heart of Isabella. The day had been one of a bitter cold. There was a kind of bite to the air that threatened heavy snow. Isabella was used to that kind of air, but not at this time of year and not without a heavy dampness to accompany it. Over dinner and out of nowhere he asked if she had bled three times.

"Yes, sir." She could not look at him. She stared at her hands as they worried themselves in her lap.

"When did you finish the last?"

"Last week." Her answer was barely above a whisper.

"I'll see you in your room after your chores then. You know what is going to happen?"

"Yes, sir."

 **AN: I owe everything to beachcomberlc for her gentle way of saying, YOU FORGOT THE CORRECT PUNCTUATION, NITWIT.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

 _From Chapter 2_

 _Four months to the day of their marriage he asked the question that sent a panic deep into the heart of Isabella._ _The day had been one of a bitter cold. There was a kind of bite to the air that threatened heavy snow. Isabella was used to that kind of air, but not at this time of year and not without a heavy dampness to accompany it._ _Over dinner and out of nowhere he asked if she had bled three times._

 _"Yes, sir."_ _She could not look at him. She stared at her hands as the worried themselves in her lap._

 _"When did you finish the last?"_

 _"Last week."_ _Her answer was barely above a whisper._

 _"I'll see you in your room after your chores then. You know what is going to happen?"_

 _"Yes, sir."_

Chapter 3

That was all the conversation held. He finished his meal and left the table. Isabella cleaned the kitchen and got a few things ready for breakfast. She walked into her bedroom as a prisoner to the dock. She washed herself and put on her nightgown. She sat on the end of her small bed and waited for her husband. She ran the lecture she had received from her aunt over in her mind.

The first time will most likely hurt her or at the very least be uncomfortable. If her husband was a kind man, he would do what he could to make the experience less awkward. If her husband was not a gentle man then the most she could hope for was that it would be over quickly. It would not hurt as much any time after that. There would most likely be bleeding but do not be too alarmed. This was a natural part of life and the only way to have children. It was a wife's duty and burden to bear. Over time it will get better.

Isabella did not know enough about her husband to be certain if he would be kind or if he would not. She had no choice in the matter either way. She belonged to this man and he wanted, no, needed children. This was his sole reason for marrying.

She was given no reason to believe that this man, her husband, cared for her in any way.

Although she knew what she had to do, she was still afraid. The pain was her biggest fear, but she also feared giving this man she knew almost nothing about access to her unclothed body. She was certain she would disappoint him somehow. Nothing she had done to date seemed to please him.

He did not knock on her door but cleared his throat just before entering. Isabella stood while he entered her room. She kept her eyes trained on the floor. She heard him walk around to the other side of the bed and pull the coverings down.

"Lie down. On your back," he said to her, his voice having a slightly deeper timbre than usual.

Isabella obeyed. Just before she lay down she noticed a piece of flannel folded over itself across the middle of the bed. She shuddered to think what it was for. She kept her eyes closed. He stood at the side of her bed and looked at her for a long moment before he reached for the hem of her nightgown. With a surprising gentleness he raised her gown up to the middle of her thighs before placing one of his knees on the bed and crawling over her. He put one foot between her ankles and moved her legs apart just enough for him to kneel inside the space.

Isabella chanced a look at him then. She wanted to see what kind of look he had on his face; to see if he looked angry or malicious. It held neither. In fact, she could not identify the emotion that played across his face. She saw that he was wearing a nightshirt of blue cotton. She recognized it from the mending pile but could not recall ever washing it with the other laundry. When he started to lean forward over her she closed her eyes and waited.

He rested his weight on one arm next to her head. He seemed to be fiddling with something much lower, Isabella could feel his other arm brushing against her leg. He then pushed her legs open more and moved his hand to the top of her thighs. She jumped and whimpered when she felt his hand between her legs. He moved his fingers around, searching for something before he took a deep breath. Something started pushing into her. It was an odd sensation until it became a painful, burning one. Isabella's whimpers became louder the more he pushed into her. He brought his free hand up and covered her mouth so that she couldn't scream. He entered her quickly then, stopping to rest inside her with his body flush to hers. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth and slid it under her shoulder. When he had her pinned in place he started to pull and push into her over and over again. It was still painful for Isabella but not as much as the initial breach. Soft groans and grunts were coming from his chest punctuating every thrust. The arm that had been beside her head moved and she felt him undo the buttons of her nightgown. He pulled the material to the side and uncovered one of her breasts. Her eyes flew open when he lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth. He squeezed the breast firmly but not too hard. It felt almost pleasant for Isabella. The feeling distracted her a bit from what he was doing between her legs. She closed her eyes again. The grunts increased in volume as he increased the speed of his thrusting until he stilled. He released her breast and let out a loud moan. His body was rigid for a moment before he collapsed onto her chest. His breath was coming out in pants and he was slick with perspiration.

When he had calmed himself, he rose up again and she could sense him looking at her. She refused to open her eyes. A few tears had escaped and ran down her temples. She wanted to wipe them away but she was afraid that that would anger him. He backed away from her, slowly. She could feel that part of him slide out of her and she wondered what it looked like. It had felt absolutely enormous as it penetrated her but it seemed much smaller now. He rolled over and rested for a few moments before he stood up and walked to the door. He paused just as he opened the door. Isabella lay there with her eyes still closed. She thought she heard him say thank you very quietly before he left the room.

Isabella was unsure when she had fallen asleep. She had lain there feeling cold and sullied for a long time. She cried muffling her sobs with her fist. At some point in the night she had retrieved the blankets and covered herself. She woke up sore and very uncomfortable. As she rose from the bed she noticed the stain of blood on the flannel. There was, however, a small glimmer of hope in her waking. She thought, perhaps, that her husband, the tall man might become more favourable towards her now that she was able to fulfill one of the more important of her wifely duties. Maybe the pleasure he seemed to gain from her body would soften his demeanour.

She was wrong.

There was no change to his behaviour. He still barely spoke to her. He ate the meals she cooked and wore the clothes she tended. He visited her every night in her bed. After a few days she began to wonder if there was something she was doing wrong during his nightly visits. The time he spent in her room became longer and longer. He did not often take her breast in his mouth again as he had done that first night. Maybe he was not deriving all the pleasure he could and her comportment during his nightly visits was lacking. She resolved to try harder.

The next night she tried to keep her eyes open to watch him. She noticed that he barely kept his eyes open either. When his thrusting became irregular and frantic she raised one hand and gently caressed the back of his neck at his hairline. He had such lovely coloured hair that was as soft as it looked. His eyes snapped open and he stared at her. It was as if he hadn't even noticed that she was there. There was a look of shock and surprise on his face. He finished quickly and then left the room as soon as he was able. She would not make that mistake again.

For a fortnight he visited her and then, with no warning, he stopped. He left her alone for sixteen days before asking her if she had bled again. Feeling like a failure, she just nodded at him.

This became their new routine. He would come to her room nightly for just over two weeks and then stop. Just after she bled he would start again. There was no intimacy or affection. There were no recriminations or punishments. It was just that way. But he still whispered thank you every time.

Isabella was woefully unprepared for the harsh winter of the prairies, for the dry cold that never left. The huge piles of snow made it almost impossible to venture outside. Her hands became chapped and raw with her daily chores. Meals became monotonous with little variety in the offerings. Stews using dried or salted meats, soups with beans or stodgy dumplings, and the increasingly boring boiled root vegetables. Porridge replaced fresh eggs, to be had only on occasion as the chickens slowed production during the winter. What was surprisingly delightful was the pink fleshed smoked fish the tall man had bought. It was so different than all the fresh fish that had been available when living on the coast. It had a distinct flavour that paled in comparison to even the smoked fishes she had had before.

After four months of Isabella's continuing failure to become with child she felt defeated. She waited patiently for him to cast her out of the house or chastise her. She expected some sort of punishment for her failings. One day, a few more months into their routine, he shattered all her illusions. Spring had set in. The ground around the carriage house was thick with mud. It was almost as treacherous to walk in that mud as it had been in the thigh-high snow. Isabella rarely ventured outside save to visit the outhouse or to retrieve water.

Mid-afternoon, when she was elbow-deep in bread dough, she heard the front door slam so hard it rattled the dishes in the cupboards. She wiped her hands and carefully walked out into the hallway to see what was happening. She saw him, bottle in hand, just as he stumbled his way into his own bedroom. She was too frightened to ask what was the matter was. She listened from the safety of the kitchen as he stormed about his room. There were sounds of furniture crashing and glass shattering. He shouted words she did not understand or fully hear. After a while, a deathly silence came over the house. She continued with her chores, finishing the bread baking and preparing his dinner. It took her hours to gather up the courage to knock on his door and offer him his evening meal.

She barely recognized the man that answered the door. He looked crazed. She repeated her offer of food. He glared at her, swaying slightly on his feet. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her own bedroom. He flung her face down onto her bed and she stayed there, not wanting to anger him further. She heard the sound of his belt opening and knew that it had finally reached the time for him to punish her. She thought he was going to beat her with his belt. He gathered the material of her skirts and hoisted them up and over her head, revealing her drawers. She waited for the first blow. Instead of striking her, he abruptly left the room slamming the door behind him.

Isabella stayed in her room for two days, cowering on her bed until the smell from the chamber pot became unbearable. She had rationed the water in the ewer on the washstand but now that it had run dry she knew that she would have to leave the room. Hunger she could ignore, but not thirst. She had heard no noises in the house for several hours so she opened her door as quietly as she could and peeked out her head. When she didn't see him, she ran to the kitchen and out the back door. She emptied the pot and relieved herself in the outhouse before going back into his home. Dressed only in her nightgown and robe she felt as though she would freeze solid before entering the house. When she came back into the kitchen she gave a little scream of surprise at the sight of him sitting at the table. He hadn't been there when she ran out. The table was still set for the dinner neither of them ate. Everything was still in its place as if waiting for them to enjoy.

Mr. Cullen looked marginally better than the last time she had seen him. He looked sober, which calmed her, but he looked haggard, which sent a new wave of panic through her.

They stared at each other for a few moments before a word that she had never heard passed his lips.

"Please."

 **AN: This story would not be the same without beachcomberlc. Her ability to take my mess and tidy it up is deer to may heart. (Yes, I know I spelled it incorrectly, she knows what it means.)**

 **Thank you also to** Nicffwhisperer **for her recommendation on this weeks TLS post. It was a treat that made my Monday wonderful.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 4

"Please, Isabella. I won't harm you. Please sit." He slowly stood and gestured to her place at the table.

She put the chamber pot down, walked over to the sink and washed her hands in the now cold water that had been waiting for the dinner dishes. She sat in her place and kept her eyes on the plate in front of her. The food had dried and discoloured in the two days it sat on the table.

"I'm going to make tea," he said. In all the time they had been married, he had never lifted a finger in the kitchen, or in any other room in the house.

She listened to the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. She knew she should get up and make the tea herself, it was her job after all, but he had told her to sit and she did not want to anger him further. She jumped with fright when he reached over her to take the ruined dinner plate away. He put a tray piled high with a tea service and fresh sweet buns on the table and took his own seat.

"Please, eat. I got them from the cook at the Inn. I know you must be hungry. Would you like some tea?" He spoke so gently, so calmly, but it did nothing to chase away her fears.

"Yes, sir," she finally managed to say out loud after whispering it twice.

He put sugar and milk into both cups he had brought to the table and carefully poured the steaming hot tea over them. He slid one cup over to her before placing two of the sweet buns on a plate and sliding that over too. He sat back in his chair with his own teacup and waited.

Isabella let her thirst and hunger get the better of her senses. She drank the tea quickly, savouring its warmth. She picked at the sweet, sticky bun. She was in no hurry to engage her husband in conversation. He sat drinking his own tea and watched every move she made. When finally he could wait no longer, he cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. At the sound, Isabella flinched.

"If you will permit me, I'd like to speak with you about a few things, Isabella."

Isabella let her hands drop to her lap, her meal forgotten despite her hunger. This was it; this was the time when he told her he had no more use for her. She would be turned out to the streets and forced to survive on her own. Perhaps she could find work and lodging somewhere nearby. She couldn't go back to Nova Scotia. The travel expense was too dire and she wasn't sure her family would take her back now that she was a fallen woman. She had nothing and no one to turn to. Since arriving in this new place she had spoken to almost no one save her husband. Since her wedding day, he had been the only person to hear her voice and he had made it painfully obvious that he had no use for that either.

"Yes, sir." She waited. The tick of the grandfather clock in the parlour grew louder as the seconds went by, waiting for him to speak.

"I owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you much more than that, Isabella. I know no way to repay or repair the damage I have done to you, except for a paltry apology. Please, Isabella. I am so sorry for what I have done to you."

Her head snapped up and she looked her husband in the eye for the first time in months. His face held a look of sincere pain and torment. His hair was in a tangled disarray on his head as if his hands had been worrying it. His clothing was not as well put together as it normally would be; there were creases and tucks where before would be smooth.

"I can only offer you excuses for my behaviour and pray that you can find it within yourself to eventually forgive me. If you feel you cannot, well, I am not sure what can be done then but I will find a solution. I was blinded, deceived and lied to. I took my anger out on you. I told you the day we wed that I was not an easy man. I used to be; a few years ago I was a good, kind man who loved to laugh. When I first arrived here and bought the Inn I was happy. My business was successful and with the urging of my family I started to look for a wife. My grandfather's will demanded I be married and have an heir to fully inherit. But more than that, I wanted someone to share my life with."

He stopped speaking and collected his thoughts.

"It was mid summer, a few years ago that I first met Mary Alice. Her father was leading an expedition up the Red River from the Mississippi River. It had taken them much longer than they had planned so they decided to explore the area. They stayed here, of course, because we are so close to where the Red and Assiniboine Rivers cross. It was as if lightening had struck me when I first saw her. She was lovely, like a little porcelain doll. She had the most delightful way of speaking. We fell in love. We were so happy. She agreed to be my wife and her father allowed the match. She helped decorate this carriage house to be our home."

He looked around the room. There were still little touches of Mary Alice here and there. He just then realized that there was nothing of Isabella in this room, or in the entire house. She had not changed even the smallest of objects. When she cleaned she made certain to put everything back in its original place lest he notice. It pained him to have proof of just how downtrodden she was and it was all his fault.

"Unfortunately, she contracted yellow fever in a small outbreak and she was too small and frail to survive it. I was devastated. I wallowed in self-pity for months before my family pushed me to get settled. I hadn't the heart to woo a woman or court her. My cousin suggested that perhaps an arranged marriage would be best. I could find a wife and learn to love her over time. He knew your uncle had a daughter that was of marrying age. He said she was pretty, healthy and from a large family.

"I wrote to your uncle but he refused the idea of marriage to his daughter. He suggested you instead. He said you were almost as pretty, a little bit younger but better suited to colonial living and more accomplished in domestic duties. I agreed and sent ample money for your passage. The day before you were to arrive, a letter came from your uncle. It was horrible and hateful. I'll spare you the details." He paused to pour another cup of tea.

"Don't," Isabella said, surprising them both.

"No more tea?" He looked at her, puzzled, for it was the first time she had said anything other than 'yes sir' in months.

"Please, sir, don't spare me the details." She did not know where she got the courage to speak. She wanted to know what her uncle had said to make this man treat her so badly. She wanted to know what crimes she was being punished for unjustly. She knew her uncle never liked her. He had no use for her; she had overheard him and her aunt arguing about her a few times before. Her uncle's treatment of her for her entire life was testament of that. To him she was a drudge, lower than the lowest servant.

"If you are sure?" He sighed. She only nodded her head.

"He said now that you were out of his house he could safely tell me what kind of woman you were. He said it was too late to back out of the agreement and that I had already paid for you. He said that you were an incorrigible flirt to the point where he wasn't certain that you were pure. He said you stole money from him, tormented his children and wife, that you were lazy and wilful. He said that he caught you drinking his spirits. He said that they were well rid of you."

He told her everything, knowing how much it would hurt her. It would hurt her almost as much in the hearing of it as it did him in the telling.

"Due to the things he said about you, I decided that I would meet the train and send you back. But your train was early and my desk clerk knew I was awaiting my bride when you showed up here. He was sure to tell everyone and I was trapped. Trapped and very angry. I had to marry you to save face and so I did. You arrived here looking like death was chasing you; you were so thin. It made you very unattractive."

He thought back to when he nursed Mary Alice on her deathbed. Even inches from death she was still beautiful. She had a certain radiance that death could not dim. When Isabella arrived there was no radiance about her, no beauty.

"After we had been married I went back to my office at the Inn and I formulated a plan. I was determined to mould you into a proper wife. To keep you away from other men. To break your spirit. As well, I still needed an heir. I thought that waiting three months could prove that any child born would be mine."

He stopped for a moment to drink more tea.

"When I came back home and discovered you waiting patiently, still hungry from your travels but obedient, I wondered just how much I had been deceived. I laid down my rules. I was deliberately rude to provoke you. I gave you Brandy to drink and it was obvious you had never touched spirits before. All you ever said was 'yes, sir'.

"I asked one of the grooms to spy on you so I could catch you flirting. However, you ran from him and told me immediately. I gave you more work than I thought possible for one woman to do and you did it all without complaint. You took care of my home, my clothes, and my meals. You never asked for anything, not even my attention. I wrote to my cousin and asked him to find the truth. I decided to keep to my plan until I heard back from him."

Isabella wondered why, if she had done everything correctly as he ordered, he still insisted on punishing her for the lies of someone else.

He saw her as she seemed to retreat more and more into herself. It was as if she was shrinking before his eyes. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it slightly to feel a little pain. The sharp ache in his scalp did not have any redemptive value for him. He soldiered on with his story.

"In the meantime, you blossomed. You gained weight and became very pretty. Your hair is your crowning feature but your face and figure, well, you are a very attractive girl, Isabella. I found it hard to resist you. When I knew you had bled three times and could not be with another man's child, the rest of my plan went into action."

He stood up and started pacing across the kitchen.

"I came to your room and found you to be pure. I had been treating you so poorly even when I found that most of the things your uncle accused you of were false. I felt wretched, but I needed a child and you are my wife. I justified my actions by thanking you. I thought that once an heir was born I would leave you alone. But month after month there was no baby and I was losing hope.

"The other day, I finally received word from my cousin. He said Dwyer lied about everything. He spoke to Dwyer, threatened him actually, to get the truth. Your uncle was angry with you because his daughter had accepted the hand of a man he deemed unworthy of her position. He said that raising you lowered his family's standing. Dwyer took the money I sent for your passage and made you work off your fare. Dwyer has lost his position at the shipyard and has taken to the bottle. Your aunt and cousins have left him. They are safe with her parents."

He paused again and noticed the tears on her cheeks. He longed to wipe them away but he knew he had yet to earn the right to touch her again. There was much more he had to tell her.

"So I grabbed the nearest bottle and tried to drown myself in alcohol. When you knocked on my door I was still so angry, with myself for believing the lies and with him for the lying. You stood outside my door looking so lovely but concerned for me. I did not deserve your concern. I had already destroyed my bedroom and I was afraid that I would destroy you too. I had to get you away from me but when I saw you lying on your bed, well, my thoughts were not gentlemanly. I started to-I wanted to. It was as if my vision was shrouded. I was going to do horrible things to you before I came to my senses and ran out of the room.

"He lied to me and I believed him. I treated you horribly for no reason. If I had just spoken to you, trusted you, we could have been happy by now. But you are terrified of me. I can see it. I am so sorry, Isabella."

He stopped his pacing and fell to his knees in front of her. He reached for and took hold of both her hands. She was shocked at his gentle touch.

"Please help me, Isabella. Even though I've been a horrible husband, you are still my wife and I still need you. I promise I will change. I promise to be kind and gentle. I promise to be a better man, one that could, possibly be worthy of you. I would like to get to know you. To perhaps build a proper marriage between us. To try. Please say you'll let us try, Isabella."

 **AN: This post is a day early due to a horrifically timed doctor's appointment tomorrow morning. So, accordingly I'm switching the posting schedule to Thursdays.**

 **Thus ends the rewrite of the original contest piece. Next chapter is the big reveal. How Isabella reacts to the tall man's confession and apology. Plus we get to know just who the tall man is. All chapter from this point on will be new material.**

 **Without the editorial prowess of beachcomberlc, this Cold would be a Hot Mess.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get.** **The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 5

Isabella sat there in shock. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea if she should even say anything at all. She felt as if she were dreaming. If she were to speak, the dream would fade. Although it was not a pleasant dream, the idea of the loss of it disturbed her.

She carefully removed her hands from his, moving slowly so as not to startle him. She could feel the clamminess of fear on her palms. She wiped them on the fabric of her robe and pushed her chair back. The tall man sat back on his haunches and just looked at her. She stood from her chair and walked over to the fire. The kettle had been placed to the side and was no longer boiling hot. She refilled it to top it up and set it over the flames. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she emptied the sink of its cold, stagnant water and poured a bucket of clean water into it. She walked to the table and began to gather the remaining forgotten dinner dishes. She scraped the waste into the slop bucket and tempered the water in the sink with the hot water from the kettle.

Isabella moved around the room, fulfilling her chores as if she were asleep. She made ritualistic movements, not thinking, just moving. She set the soiled dishes to soak and ran a wet cloth over the cooking surfaces to clean them. This she knew how to do. This she knew was one of the only things she was good at and was worthy to do.

For all his apologies, the tall man had settled in Isabella's mind a sense of complete worthlessness. She was worth nothing. Worth nothing to her husband, to her family and to the rest of society. Even the slaves she had known of that came to Nova Scotia to escape tyranny, had worth. A horrible, demeaning, contemptuous worth. She had none.

Her entire life was a game. Played by the men in it. First her father who had ruined her mother, her grandfather who cast Isabella out before she was born, her uncle who hated her still to this day and did everything in his power to punish her. Then finally her husband, whose name she still did not know, would rather believe the ramblings of a mad man than ever deign to ask her himself what sort of girl she was.

Every day, in everything that she did, no matter the reason, she was punished. Purely for the sin of being born. Or perhaps the sin was being born female. Isabella did not know which crime was more punishable.

Methodically she washed and dried the dinner dishes. After putting them back in their places, she brought out the broom and swept the kitchen. She then rummaged around in the pantry, gathering the items she would need to make the tall man's supper. Lost in her head she did not hear the tall man come up behind her, even as he called her name. It wasn't until he placed his hands on her shoulders that she reacted. It was a very small, short shriek that escaped her lips when she crumpled to the ground. She made no other sound.

She did not struggle as he picked her up off the floor and carried her to her bedroom. She lay in his arms like a broken doll, like the puppet she had been since her conception. She waited for him to pick up her strings and set her to dancing for him once again.

He laid her down on her bed and sat beside her. He looked at her with such pity. He was frightened, for her and for himself. What had he done to her? He had watched her move about the kitchen, cleaning things and putting them away. There was no animation on her face, no life left in her at all. He was a hair's breadth away from calling for the doctor for her. He was fairly certain she had lost her faculties.

Isabella blinked her eyes. She noticed that she was now in her bedroom. She also noticed that the tall man was sitting on her bed. She knew it must be time. She unknotted the tie of her robe and drew the sides apart. She reached down as far as she could and started to pull her nightgown up. At the same time she raised her knees and spread them so that he could do what he needed to do in order to secure his heir.

She flinched when he stopped her hands and he pulled her nightdress back down to cover her body. Now he no longer wants even that from her. Her womb was now as useless to him as she had ever been. His sole purpose for marrying her had been her womb and now that he was no longer interested in it, well, she didn't know what to do. What was to become of her now? She turned to lay on her side away from him and curled into a small ball, and fell asleep.

He watched over her for a while as she slept. For all the world, he had not expected this reaction from her. While he had no idea what to expect from his confession, this complete lack of anything from her was terrifying. He had wanted her to be angry, to rail and fight at the knowledge of just what had been done to her. For her to yell, to cry, or to talk to him about the events that led up to his confession. But she did none of those things. She cleaned his kitchen like the walking dead. She was no better than an animated corpse moving about the room. When she started to prepare yet another meal for him he had to stop her. The unearthly noise that came from her when he touched her solidified his torment. He had destroyed her as surely as if he had taken a gun to her heart.

He tried to be so gentle when he laid her on the bed. He had thought that, perhaps some sleep would clear her mind. When she lay there exposed to him as if she expected him to mount her like some animal, she broke what little was left of his heart.

After a few hours of watching and listening to her whimper in her sleep, he got up off of the bed and walked into his study. He sat at his desk with his head in his hands. Finally letting out a long held breath, he reached into his desk and withdrew several pieces of paper. Two pieces were plain writing paper, the rest were his copy of his own will and testament. He set the will to one side and dipping his quill into the ink in the well, started to write on the blank pages. He wrote for over an hour, spilling his life onto the page. He wrote to his cousin, the one back in Nova Scotia who had helped him. In his letter he outlined all his sins, his cruel treatment of Isabella, his torture of this pure soul he had married. He purged himself upon the pages of his missive hoping against hope that his cousin would help him. Hoping that writing down what he had done would help to absolve him of his crimes.

He knew it wouldn't really help. He knew that the only person who could possibly exonerate him was the small woman asleep uncomfortably in her bed. The very bed where he committed the majority of those crimes.

He desperately wanted to drink. To lose himself in the balm of alcohol and forget. Dear God he wanted to forget. He wanted to take himself back to the time when Mary Alice was alive and healthy. Just after she had agreed to wed him when he was at his happiest. But no amount of alcohol could restore that time to him. Getting lost in a bottle would do no good to anyone, Isabella least of all.

He heard her stirring just as he was closing the letter to his cousin. He finished up as quickly as he could and went to find Isabella. She was, of course, in the kitchen. She had tidied herself. Her face was washed and her hair pinned in place. She had changed into one of her dresses. She looked lovely, sad and worn, but lovely.

Isabella stiffened when she heard the tall man approaching. What must he think of her now? She had broken down, displayed herself in an unbecoming manner, and slept the day away. She was almost late with his dinner and if she didn't hurry, she would be.

She looked about at the supplies she had gathered earlier in her confused state. It was a odd collection of items. There were things that just did not go together. She knew from the time she had left to prepare that she would have to improvise a meal. She gathered up the root vegetables and the crock of salted beef to place back in the pantry. Once there she grabbed two of the pretty smoked fish and a jar of what she had been told was wild rice but really looked like black bugle beads she had sewn on her cousin's dresses. This paired with the canned vegetables she had gathered before would make a suitable, quick meal.

Isabella did not spare the tall man a look as she rushed about preparing his dinner. Earlier in the day he had asked her questions she still did not have the answers to, but was she willing to try to have a marriage with this man? What did that mean, to have a marriage with him? He had promised to be kinder but after all this time was there any hope to his promise? Was there any hope for her to learn to be the wife he wanted?

He watched from the doorway as she prepared the evening meal. There were no wasted movements, no hesitations in her work. She drained the vegetables she had canned that fall, saving the water to flavour the rice. She did not know but she had chosen some of his favourites, corn and green beans. He had never made his preferences known to her and yet for all the time they had been married she had never prepared a meal he didn't enjoy.

Perhaps, he thought, letting her know that he did enjoy her cooking would be a good way to begin a conversation with her. Clearing his throat he walked into the room and sat in his usual seat at the table. He pretended that he did not see her flinch.

"Green beans are my favourite. One summer my mother grew some that were purple, royal purple. My father didn't want to eat them, he thought that there was something wrong with them but my mother was eager to try. She has always been the more adventurous one in the family. She gathered a small handful of them and tossed them in a pot to cook. We all stood in the kitchen watching and waiting. When they were done, she lifted the lid and low and behold they had turned green with cooking. She was so very disappointed. I think she had been looking forward to them being different somehow. But, alas, they were just normal beans. They tasted just the same as they always did."

Isabella just stared at the tall man. He had never said so much to her at one time before. He had never shared anything remotely personal with her like this.

And then he smiled.

Isabella took in a nervous breath and continued with her work as if he hadn't spoken. He tried again.

"The rice smells lovely."

Isabella dropped the spoon she had been using to stir the corn. It made a dull little thunking noise as it hit the side of the pot. She rushed into the pantry and collected the plates. She took the fish out of the warming water and laid them on a towel to dry as she served up the rice and vegetables. She arranged his plate and laid it before him.

"Thank you, Isabella. It looks and smell wonderful."

She turned, confused, and brought her own plate to her place and sat. She waited for him to start, as she always did, just in case there was something lacking to his meal.

The tall man reached out one hand but did not touch her.

"You are a very good cook, Isabella. I'm sorry I've never told you that before."

Isabella looked at him. His face was sincere, his eyes and voice gentle. She had never really noticed the lovely blue green colour of his eyes before. She had never really looked at him for such a length of time before either. He was a handsome man. His hair was not slicked down as it usually was, but in tidy waves about his head. It was a pleasing colour, not quite brown but not really blonde at the same time. It was the colour of honey.

"Thank you, sir." Isabella looked down at her plate as she spoke.

The tall man wanted to sigh. He had a very hard road ahead of him to build her up after she had been destroyed so thoroughly.

He picked up his utensils and began to skin his fish. Very slowly Isabella reached for her own fork. She felt it was safe for her to start eating, as he hadn't said he needed anything.

The meal was very quiet, they usually were, but this time the silence seemed to be another guest at the table; an entity unto itself.

Isabella ate her vegetables and rice first, saving the fish for the end. When it came time for her to start it, she paused. She looked up at the tall man and then back at her fish.

"Is something wrong with your fish, Isabella?" The tall man stopped eating his dinner.

Isabella shook her head.

"Do you need help with separating it from its bones?"

Again she shook her head. She looked back up at the tall man and spoke.

"For eight months I've been preparing and eating these fish." She paused

"Go on."

"I really enjoy them, they are better than any other fish I've had. We had cod, halibut and haddock back in Nova Scotia. Sometimes smoked salmon but never these."

He smiled encouragingly at her, hoping she would continue to talk. Hoping that she would in some way open up to him and give him a way to reach her.

"In all the months I've been having these fish, I do not know their name."

He blinked. He hadn't told her what the fish were called.

"Goldeye. They are a local lake trout that are smoked with willow, that is what turns them pink."

He thought he heard her sigh in relief.

She repeated the word in her head as she began to eat her fish. When their meal was finished, Isabella gathered the dirty dishes and placed them by the sink. She filled the kettle for tea and performed all the little rituals she normally did after dinner.

The tall man just sat at his place and listened to her work around him. Usually after dinner he repaired to his study for paperwork or reading. Tonight he decided to stay in her company on the off chance she should speak to him some more.

As he sat he came to a realization. Maybe her sigh wasn't in relief. Maybe her sigh was for the fact that she couldn't ask for a different name. A name she deserved to know, deserved to curse in her loudest voice.

He stood and turned to her.

"Isabella?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Jasper. My name is Jasper."

 **AN: I knew you'd scroll to the end to find out who the tall man was. Naughty, naughty, naughty. Now go back and read the whole thing. beachcomberlc put a lot of work into fixing this for me. So much that her impatiens grew impatient.**

 **My apologies to all the Jasper lovers out there. But, really, he does have a reputation for nasty outbursts.**

 **I would like to remind you of the pairing in this story. Oh right, there isn't one. Please remember that before you flounce. There is a lot more story to come and many twists and turns. I won't be offended if you do flounce, it is entirely your prerogative and none of my business if you do. If you can't live with not knowing send me a PM and I'll sing.**

 **I haven't lived in Manitoba for over thirty years. I still crave Winnipeg Goldeye. Are there any Peggers out there willing to ship? I can trade for Lobster.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 6

Mr. Jasper Cullen.

Jasper.

I am Mrs. Jasper Cullen.

The names kept running through Isabella's mind as she lay in her bed. Jasper. She had had no idea. She had married him eight months ago and never knew his name to be Jasper. Although it was likely that the minister had said it during the ceremony, she hadn't heard or remembered it. That day had been such a blur there was very little she did remember.

How very odd. That he shared such information with her was also very odd. Perhaps this was what he meant when he asked if they could try at a normal marriage. She recalled that her aunt spoke to her uncle using his first name, when it was only family around them. Her aunt had called him Phillip. She had once overheard her aunt call him Phil while in a fit of giggles. However, Isabella had only ever called her uncle Ship's Master Dwyer, or Sir. She had been instructed to call every adult male Sir. Isabella wasn't sure if she could use the name Jasper when speaking to her husband. It seemed wrong in some way she could not explain.

After the fiasco of the day before when she had behaved so egregiously, he had given her a small piece of himself. He had given her his name. He had spoken kindly to her and told her a little about his childhood. She was so very confused and that confusion troubled her sleep. When she had repaired to bed she had expected him to visit her to resume their marital congress. This was the time of the month where usually he would visit nightly. He had not been to her bed in several days, not since the night before his tantrum.

Not that she looked forward to his visits. His visits were a reminder of her duty to him in providing him with an heir. She had failed in that duty thus far. That thought weighed heavily on her heart. She was a failure at being a wife.

Jasper listened to Isabella's quiet sobs. He knew it was entirely his fault. It was not the first time he had heard her cry herself to sleep. The sound of it hadn't bothered him much before but this night every cry was a dagger to his heart. He very quietly left his bed and walked to his study. He picked up the letter he had written to his cousin and reread it. Tomorrow he would post it and wait for his cousin's reply. He would also see about an appointment with his solicitor to review and amend his will. He hadn't updated his will since before Mary Alice's death. He had been so caught up in punishing Isabella for her imaginary sins that he had not thought to include her in his last will and testament.

Perhaps, tomorrow he could start showing Isabella a better side of him. He could start to treat her the way she deserved to be treated for once in her life. He made himself a promise and a plan.

The crowing of the rooster woke Isabella from her troubled sleep. In her dreams, she had been chased by a faceless person bent on hurting her. Her neck and shoulders were stiff, sore and aching. It was not the first time she had had such dreams and awoken in pain. She performed her morning ablutions and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. She was surprised that Mr. Cullen was in the kitchen before her arrival. She hoped that he would not be angry to have beaten her there. She did not think that she was late in getting his breakfast but felt the need to apologize just the same.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I'll have your breakfast ready in a few minutes." She rushed into the pantry to get her apron.

"Please do not apologize to me, Isabella. Actually, I was hoping that I could make breakfast for you this morning."

Isabella skidded to a stop, apron in hand. He wanted to cook? For her? She was stunned as he reached for the apron.

"I won't wear this though. Please have a seat."

She walked over to her place at the table still stunned and sat down.

"No need to be frightened. I can cook. Not particularly well, mind you, but I did learn a few things over the years."

He busied himself reading supplies for their meal, filling the kettle and slicing bread. She watched every movement out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to know what he was doing and it took everything in her not to jump up and help. She did not want to get in his way.

He laid out a simple meal of tea, bread, butter and jam. She stuttered a thank you and waited for him to begin eating.

"I was hoping that after breakfast we could talk. I have many questions for you as I'm sure you have for me as well."

"Yes, Sir?" Isabella answered although not certain if she had any questions she would dare to ask him.

"Isabella, I would be honoured if you were to call me by my first name, please. I realize that I haven't yet earned your forgiveness but would you grant me this small kindness?"

"Of course, Sir. I mean, of course, Jasper."

"Thank you Isabella."

They ate their meal in silence, as per usual, but the silence that morning was less palpable, less of a guest at the table than it usually was. For once it was a comfortable silence.

Isabella poured Jasper a second cup of tea and rose to clean the kitchen. Jasper did not feel the need to help, there were only so many domestic chores he liked to do and washing dishes was not one of them. He startled her when he began to speak.

"Where would you feel most comfortable having our conversation, Isabella? Would the parlour be to you liking or would you rather talk in my study?"

"What ever pleases you, Jasper."

"I think I should like to use the parlour. Would you meet me there when you are finished here?"

Isabella nodded at him and watched as he left the room. The entire morning had been surreal. He was conversing with her, asking her questions and performing her chores. She was not sure how long this behaviour would last and the idea of going back to the way things were before frightened her almost as much as these changes had. She quickly set the kitchen to rights and made her way to the parlour so as not to keep him waiting.

Jasper stood in front of the fireplace waiting for Isabella to arrive. In his mind he formulated what he wished to say to her. There were so many things that they had to discuss, the first being the status of their marriage. She still had not answered the question he had asked her the day before; was she willing to continue in this marriage?

He barely heard the whisper of her skirts as she entered the room. She made no other noise to announce her arrival. He wondered if she always moved that way or if the very threat of him had silenced her. He turned and smiled at her, hoping to seem friendly and calm.

"Please, sit, Isabella, wherever you are most comfortable." He kept his voice gentle.

"I would like to speak to you about yesterday, if you are amenable." He began as she sat.

"I'm sorry for my reaction, Sir. I will never behave in such a manner again." Isabella was very quick to apologise for her actions.

Jasper came to stand before her. She refused to look up at him. After he had been kind to her last night and again this morning she could not bear to see him angry with her. She wanted the kindness he had bestowed on her to continue. She was shocked when he lowered himself to his knees in front of her.

"Your reaction to the wrongs done to you were understandable, Isabella. I think a minor break from reality was in order. I find no fault in it and I wish you to do the same."

Isabella nodded, not convinced.

"No, I realised that I asked too much of you yesterday in light of what I told you. I would like to know what it is you are feeling and if you would like to continue to be my wife. But then I also realised that you have only known me to be the horrible man who treated you so abominably. I thought that perhaps you would let me show you the man I wish to be before you make your decision regarding our marriage."

He paused his speech only long enough to take a seat on the settee beside her. He did not touch her and for that she was glad.

"I realised also that I have kept you a prisoner in this house and I've not allowed you to know anything but this place. I would like to remedy that over the next few days if you are willing. I'd like to show you the Inn and for you to meet my employees. I'd like to show you the town and some of the attractions here. You did not have any time to see the city did you?"

"No, Sir. I came straight here from the train station."

"I do wish for you to not be so frightened of me. I swear I will treat you better. Please believe me. You have no idea just how sorry I am for what I have done to you. You did not deserve any of it, Isabella."

Isabella could not hold in her emotions any longer. She burst into tears. She sobbed as though her heart was breaking and Jasper was fairly certain that it was.

While she was shocked that he gathered her in his arms and held as she cried. She did not react to his touch. She needed the affection of being held by another person. When her weeping slowed he reached into his pocket and brought out a clean handkerchief for her to dry her eyes.

When she had calmed herself he loosened his hold on her and sat back to let her regain her composure. She worried the handkerchief in her fingers, twisting it round and round.

"I thought perhaps we could start with a small outing. I have several letters to post and I would like to visit my solicitor. Would you be willing to accompany me to the post office? It is a lovely walk and a fine early spring morning. There is a bakery next to the post office. We could purchase lunch there or bring something home with us."

Isabella held fast to the scrap of cloth in her hands. He wanted her to be seen outside of the house with him? She worried about all the people they could possibly see. What would they think of her? What had he told them about her? Would they be able to see the mark of failure upon her?

She chanced a look at him. He looked eager, almost boyish, so she nodded her head. Jasper stood and went to the front hall to get his greatcoat and scarf. He looked in the small closet and almost felt the need to vomit. Isabella had no coat, no boots, nothing warm to protect her from the chill in the air. He slammed the closet door closed and swore. He looked back at the doorway to the parlour and saw Isabella standing there, her head hung low.

"I'm so sorry Isabella, I didn't think-I didn't know. I am such a fool."

Isabella's knees threatened to collapse. He was angry again and nothing good could come from it.

"I didn't think to get you a cloak or the proper boots for walking. The ground is quite soft and there is a lot of mud. Your shoes would be ruined. How have you been getting to the water barrels or the outhouse?"

Isabella blushed furiously at such a strangely intimate question.

"There are old boots and long coats in the mudroom off the kitchen. I wear those."

Jasper knew she was speaking of his old items in the back. He shrugged off his coat and folded it over his arm. He stood there in defeat.

"There are so many things I never thought about. I was so set in my course, so determined to punish you for. . . for just being here. For months I've let this hatred rule me. Then, when I learned the error of my ways and started to think for myself again, I thought it would be so easy. I thought we would take a walk, get to know one another, and perhaps build our marriage from that familiarity. But, yet again I have failed. I haven't even provided the means for you to leave this place. I have shackled you to this home by not even providing the proper footwear."

Isabella was pained to see him in such torment. She had too much heart not to feel sympathy for her husband, her jailer, as he saw himself.

"Perhaps someone at the Inn could lend me the proper outerwear?" She asked in a moment of boldness.

"Maybe, I could ask one of the maids. But therein lies another problem. They know nothing of you. No one knows that I am married and that I'm keeping a wife here."

 **AN: Poor Bella, the hits just keep coming. I am planning a HEA, eventually. Thank for reading. I do appreciate your kind words. I even appreciate the not so kind ones. Not that there have been many of those, but still...**

 **beachcomberlc tidies my thoughts and keeps me from ruining this story with too many commas. For this and many other things, I thank her.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 7

No one knew of her existence.

Isabella was not entirely shocked by that revelation. She had only seen five people since coming to live at the Inn; most of them within the first twenty-four hours of her arrival. She knew very well that Jasper would not be singing her virtues and praises at his place of employment. Why would he? And of those five people, four not counting Jasper himself, her interactions with them were minimal and ultimately forgettable. She could not fault him.

"Do you want to tell them?"

"Do I want to tell them that I'm married? That would depend on whether you wish to continue this marriage. Do I want to tell them I've been married for months and kept my wife prisoner in my home? Not particularly. My cousin knows, or rather will know when he reads the letter I have here to send him. I'm seeking his advice and counsel. He is a very learned man and I look up to him."

"Do you wish to continue this marriage?" She wondered aloud.

"I believe at this point that the decision should be yours, Isabella. Yes, I want to be married and I wish for children, not only for my inheritance, but for myself also. I enjoy children and I've wanted to be a father for many years."

"Why would the decision be mine? You are the one in command; all decisions are yours and must be abided. That is the law, is it not?"

"In command? Is that what it was like for you growing up? Were you under your uncle's command?"

Jasper walked past her as she stood in the doorway of the parlour. He sat on the settee again and patted the seat beside him hoping that she would sit as well.

"Yes, Sir." Isabella nodded emphatically.

"I do not wish to live that way. You are the injured party here, Isabella. If you wish for a divorce, then I will find a way to have one granted."

"Is that an easy thing to do?"

"For me, yes. If I wanted a divorce I would just have to tell the courts that you are an adulteress. But I hesitate to pin that title to you. You would have difficulty gaining employment or another marriage. If you wanted to divorce me, you would have to prove adultery and cruelty and a sundry of other crimes against you. It is very difficult for a woman to be granted a divorce without very substantial proof. Even with proof, the husband usually wins."

Jasper sighed. He had heard many tales of court proceedings. Justice weighed heavily for all men in this rough part of the country.

"We could have a legal separation but neither of us could marry again legally. We would always be tied to one another."

"What of the minister who married us, he and his wife know, don't they?"

"Yes, however, the Webers moved to Alberta just after we were wed. The desk clerk knew, but he passed away this winter. He stole a bottle and froze to death on the river. The stable groom who watched you the first day still works here but only in the more pleasant months. I never told him that you were my wife, just that there was a girl working in my garden that I wanted to get the measure of, I'm sure that he has forgotten by now."

Jasper lent forward and with his elbows on his knees held his head in his hands.

"Every new idea, every new question just adds more problems one after another. It seems that there is no end in sight. I can't fathom the idea of selling the Inn and starting again in a new city. I've put my life into it and it would hurt me to leave it. I don't see away around."

Isabella thought on this idea. She knew just how much the Inn meant to Jasper. It was not only his livelihood, but also his passion.

"Or, I could arrive tomorrow."

Jasper looked up at Isabella. She had her head down as always.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A fresh start."

"You would pretend the last eight months did not happen? You would pretend to arrive tomorrow and become my wife again? Why would you be willing to do that?"

"If no one knows about me now, then why not pretend?"

"To what end, though? And for what purpose? You would still have to stay with me. Would you be willing to do that after everything that has happened?"

"If it would make it easier for you, then yes."

"And what about for you? What do you want for you?"

"Nothing."

Jasper was not convinced, however, he was practical and knew what she was offering him. She was selling her soul to the devil and he was Lucifer incarnate. He knew it was wrong, morally, to take her up on her offer. However, to save his business and reputation, he would have to agree. She made a lot of sense. They could start over this way and have no one be the wiser.

Jasper bundled himself in his greatcoat and scarf again. With letters in hand, he bid his wife goodbye and set off for town. His first stop was to his solicitor. He outlined the changes he wanted for his will. The Inn and the property it stood on was left to his cousin for he knew Isabella could not inherit and own a business. A codicil was set in place that his new wife was to be given a generous allowance and she was to be allowed to stay on the property as long as it remained in his cousins possession. He then posted his letter. Although he had settled most of his concerns with Isabella he needed his cousin to know the truth. He needed someone who would care for Isabella and take her side if something should happen to him.

He visited various stores around the town procuring items for his bride. He rather excitedly informed any and every one that he was betrothed and she would be arriving soon. He checked the train schedule to see if their story could be supported properly. There was a train scheduled to arrive in three days from out east. Isabella could arrive on that train and they could be wed just after that. His last stop was at the bakery.

Heavily loaded with packages, Jasper arrived back at the Inn. He whistled to himself as he made his way back to the carriage house. He was pleased with his purchases and quite excited to show Isabella what he had bought for her. He trudged up the stairs and opened the door, calling her name as he entered.

Isabella had spent the time during her husband's absence doing a few chores and some light cleaning. Tears streamed down her face the entire time. She cried for her past and she cried for her future. She knew she was just trading one hell for another. For as much as he promised, she was trapping herself in a marriage to a man who frightened her. She was trapping herself to help him. Perhaps, with time he would grow to care for her. Perhaps, with time she would grow to love him. But what was she to do in those intervening years? She did not even know if she liked this man she married.

She would keep doing her work, keep his house clean and warm his bed with nothing for herself. She had never been allowed to dream of something for herself. Her whole life had been under the thumb of her uncle and now Jasper. He had asked her what she wanted for herself. She could not answer. She had no self.

Isabella heard Jasper's whistling and quickly ran to her room to wash her face. If he was happy enough to whistle, she did not want to dampen his spirits with her tears. He called her name as she took a cleansing breath and walked to the front hall to meet him.

Jasper stood by the door with many packages piled in his arms. Isabella rushed forward to help him. Together they took everything to the kitchen so that Jasper could show off his purchases.

A sturdy pair of tall boots and a plain black wool cloak were the first things he showed her. A pair of gloves, a simple little hat and a warm scarf finished out the necessary clothing she needed to fulfil the charade.

With a rather uncharacteristic shyness, Jasper held out a parcel tightly wrapped in brown paper.

"I neglected to give you a wedding present or a Christmas present, and for that I surely do apologise. I saw this in the store and thought that perhaps you would enjoy it. It is not new, someone must have sold it to the shopkeeper. They carry a fair amount of pretty little items, most of them sold by travellers who are in need of goods to exchange." He was trying to cover his nervousness with babble. For truth, he had no idea what Isabella liked or disliked. He knew nothing of her preferences and was fairly sure she didn't either. He just wanted her to have a little something pretty to look at. He wanted her to have a possession of her own. There was nothing in this home belonging to Isabella. There was more of Mary Alice in the place and she was long passed from this world.

Isabella took the parcel with trepidation. She opened the brown paper and looked at the small wooden box. A lighthouse was painted on the cover and when the box was opened a tinny tune played. She struggled to identify the piece of music. She could not but she did enjoy the tune.

"Thank you, Jasper, it's lovely."

Jasper beamed and opened the lid to the bakery box. He had bought a selection of sweets for tea. Most were his favourites, in the hopes that she could learn how to make them.

"There is a train arriving from out east in three days. If you are still willing, we could set our plan for then? It is scheduled for early morning, so I could arrange for the minister to come for the afternoon. I could also arrange a dinner at the Inn with a few guests to celebrate."

"Whichever you would prefer, Sir. I am agreeable."

"Thank you Isabella. It is very kind of you to go through with this charade for me. I do promise that this new marriage will be much different."

And it was. Isabella packed her bags and walked to the station very early in the morning. She snuck onto the platform to arrive on the train as they had planned Jasper met her at the station with a horse and buggy and brought her to the Inn. There she was introduced to all the staff members, including the new desk clerk, Emmett. He was a large imposing man with a severe limp. He had been a voyageur until his leg was shattered. He was happy to keep a post at the front desk of the Inn and reminisce with the travellers as he spun great tales of adventure. His wife, Rosalie, worked in the kitchens, but would often appear just to correct his versions of his stories.

Over the summer months, Isabella stuck closely to the carriage house. While she was friendly with the staff at the Inn, she still felt removed from them. She had never had many people to speak with before and found conversation difficult to maintain. The people of the Inn liked her well enough for she always had a ready and heartfelt smile for them.

Jasper stayed true to his word. He was much kinder to her. He made more of an effort to speak with her and to thank her for the care she gave him. He also tried to help out more to alleviate her household burdens. They held real conversations over the dinner table, mostly revolving around the people at the Inn. There were Sunday walks through the rolling hills and the occasional tea at the bakery in town. Isabella was accepted as Jasper's wife by all that knew them.

After their second wedding, Jasper kissed his bride for the first time. It was a soft and gentle kiss, mindful of the company they were in. For Isabella, it was awkward and an odd sensation to have another's lips on hers. When Jasper pulled back to look at his bride there was a strange look in his eye that she could not place. Since then, he had only ever kissed her cheek or her hand. For over a month into their new marriage Jasper refrained from visiting Isabella in her bed. Neither of them thought that they possibly should have shared a room as feelings between them were still confused and strained.

Jasper brought up the subject of children one night after supper. He asked very gently if she was willing to try for a child. Isabella gave the subject no thought and agreed. After all, it was his husbandly right and although it was kind of him to ask her opinion, she would not stop him. Their coupling was perfunctory and without affection. Other than the aim to produce a child, they lived much like brother and sister. There was no romantic feeling spared between them. Neither thought this to be unusual based on their beginning. Isabella had no knowledge of passion or romance and Jasper's heart belonged to Mary Alice.

As fall began to settle across the Prairies and the trees shed their leaves, Isabella was well prepared for another long winter. Her pantry was overstocked with both dried and canned goods. She had worked very hard, for many of the elders stated that this could be one of the worst winters yet.

For all her preparations and stores, nothing could prepare Isabella for what was to come. The first chill of winter was in the air the day there was a thundering knock on the carriage house door. Isabella rushed to answer it, drying her hands on a towel as she ran. She opened the door to see the face of a very angry man. He was the same height as Jasper and was familiar looking, although Isabella was certain she had never met this man before.

"I'm looking for Jasper Cullen. Is he here? He wasn't in his office." The tall man asked with more than just a hint of vexation in his voice.

"Yes, one moment, please." Isabella held the door so that the man could enter, then went to fetch Jasper from his study.

As Jasper followed his wife to the door, he exclaimed with joy a name Isabella had never heard before.

"Edward, you're here."

"You may not be happy to see me in a moment, Jasper." Edward said as he drew his right arm back and threw a punch that sent Jasper flying to the floor.

 **AN: First impression are always so important. Especially when meeting family. Something tells me that Edward may be able to teach young Isabella something about passion.**

 **Have you read all the entries for the Meet the Mate contest? Have you submitted your entry yet? Well, why not? I was considering entering myself...**

 **beachcomberlc, there is no praise high enough.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 8

Isabella stood there with her hand over her mouth looking at her husband crumpled on the floor. She was too stunned to go over and offer help. The angry man, Edward, walked over to him and held out his left hand to help Jasper to his feet. Isabella was further shocked when Jasper clasped the man that had just hit him in a firm embrace once he was steady on his legs.

Jasper pulled away from his cousin and rubbed one hand over his own jaw. The skin there was bright red and would most likely bruise. Although he was injured, he had a bright smile on his face.

Isabella finally found her senses and asked after the well being of her husband. Jasper shook off her concerns and placed a hand on the shoulder of his assailant.

"Isabella, I would like to introduce you to my older, wiser and obviously much stronger cousin, Edward."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss." Isabella looked askance at the gentleman who offered his hand to her. She shook it quickly and made a very half-hearted smile at him. Jasper turned his attention to his cousin.

"Edward, this is my wife, Isabella."

"She's still your wife?" Edward asked, aghast. He turned back to face Jasper. Jasper spluttered a little but did not actually manage to form words.

Isabella took this as an opportunity to leave the two gentlemen and go back to the kitchen. If there were to be more fisticuffs, she did not want to witness. She set about making tea and a few items to go with it. She tried, but failed, to not let Jasper's cousin's comment bother her. Did he see her as not good enough to be married to Jasper? Had he found fault with her already after only a moment in his company? Did he think Jasper should have divorced her?

She brought the tea things to the parlour for the gentlemen, but found it empty. She then carried the tray to Jasper's study and found them there in a heated argument. They stopped the moment she knocked on the door. Not wanting to interrupt, she left the tea for them and retired to the kitchen.

The dinner she had planned would not stretch to accommodate three, so she tidied up that meal and began a different one. She recused herself to the kitchen for hours for fear that the argument between the men would encompass her. She did not want to admit to her failings to Jasper's cousin and have him hold her accountable on behalf of his family. She had now been married to Jasper for over a year and she still was not with child. This fact weighed heavily on her mind. The possibility that she could be barren and unable to fulfil the most basic of female duties worried her.

She put a little more effort into preparing that night's meal than usual, hoping to somehow impress Edward. She gathered enough courage to go back to the study and call the men to dinner. They arrived in the kitchen together, looking happy to be in each other's company.

"Mrs. Cullen, please forgive my impetuous and violent arrival. I hope you don't think me a total boor. I can assure you that I am not, but on occasion Jasper brings it out of me. It shan't happen again." Edward bowed slightly to her.

"It is alright, Isabella, I deserved it and I don't fault him for hitting me." Jasper was quick to absolve him.

There was a moment Isabella said nothing. For the life of her, she would never understand men folk. Her young cousins used to behave the same way, always tumbling, wrestling and pummelling each other one minute and best of friends the next. It must be something in the maleness of them that allowed for such violence.

"As long as you are fine with it, Jasper, I'll pay it no mind then." Isabella began to place their dinner on the table as the men sat.

"This smells lovely, Mrs. Cullen. I have been trapped on a train for too long and I'm eagerly awaiting a home cooked meal. Thank you." Edward took a longing look at his dinner and waited for Isabella to serve herself and sit.

"You needn't call her Mrs. Cullen, Edward. She is your family now. Just call her Isabella." Jasper said, dismissively as he began to eat, not waiting for Isabella.

Isabella ducked her head and blushed as she sat down. She noticed that Edward was not yet eating his meal. She hoped that she hadn't forgotten anything or that his meal wasn't lacking in any way.

"Is there anything else I could get for you, Edward, some bread perhaps?" Isabella started to rise to fetch whatever it was that Edward could possibly need for him to begin eating.

"No, thank you, Isabella. I was raised to wait for the lady of the house to begin before starting, as was Jasper." Edward looked sharply at his cousin. It seems that Jasper had forgotten many of the social niceties he had been raised to honour.

Jasper just shrugged one shoulder and continued with his dinner.

"We are not so formal here, Edward." Jasper said while adding salt to his soup.

"Yes, I have noticed that." Edward still waited for Isabella.

As quickly as she could, Isabella picked up her spoon and dipped it into the bowl. If Edward would not eat until she did, she had better start.

The soup was thick and rich. It was a fish chowder, or as close to a fish chowder as one could get this far from the ocean. There was a local whitefish that was comparable enough although not quite as rich as the cod Isabella grew up with. A little extra bacon helped to make it taste almost like home.

Edward watched with fascination as Isabella closed her eyes to taste her soup. A slight blush still lingered on her cheeks, and she was quite lovely to look at. Edward banished that thought from his mind. He wasn't here to think about how lovely his cousin's wife was. He was here to start anew.

Edward hummed appreciatively at the warm meal. The noise he made caused Isabella to blush a little more. Isabella noticed that Jasper was almost finished and she jumped up to set the kettle to boil for tea. Edward looked at Jasper as his wife ran about the kitchen ignoring her meal so that she could serve the men. Jasper had not looked at or spoken to his wife since starting to eat. He knew Jasper had not been raised to treat his wife this way. Their fathers had been raised by a very strong mother who taught them to care for their wives, and the brothers had instilled those same lessons on their sons. Their fathers had never expected their wives to forgo their own meals to cater to their needs. Apparently, Jasper had grown quite coarse living in this new frontier town. Edward resolved to have more words with Jasper after dinner.

The moment Jasper finished his soup and lay down his spoon, Isabella whisked it away and brought him his evening tea. She then tended to Edward's bowl and smiled at little when he thanked her. She delivered Edward's tea and a few pieces of cake before returning to her now cold soup. She took a few more spoonfuls before clearing her own place. She made herself a cup of tea and sat quietly. Jasper started a conversation with Edward about Edward's plans. Jasper was quite pleased to hear that Edward intended to stay and build a medical practice.

A few minutes into the conversation, Jasper stood from his chair and thanked his wife for the meal she provided. He invited Edward to his study for a stiff drink and more talk. Edward, in turn, thanked Isabella for dinner and followed behind his cousin.

Isabella let out a hefty sigh. It was not one of the more comfortable meals she had spent here, but at the same time it was not the most awkward either. She was still so very nervous about the arrival of Jasper's cousin. She did not know what it meant for her. If his family did not approve of her would she be sent away as she had feared in the past? Her new marriage to Jasper was much more pleasant than the time she had spent with him before, but she knew that theirs was a tenuous relationship. She knew he could just as easily divorce her and leave her with nothing if the mood so struck him as keep her. She also knew that every month she went without producing an heir was another tick against her.

Isabella glanced out the kitchen window and noticed the darkness. She had tarried too long and there was plenty of work to be done before bed. She washed the dishes and made her preparations for the morning meal. She made up the bed in the spare room, filled the ewer with fresh water and dusted as needed. She did not know if Jasper's cousin was staying with them or if he was, for what length of time. It would have been beneficial to have prior information of his arrival but as Jasper was surprised as well, she could not find blame. Not that it was her place to, it was Jasper's home and his guests were welcome at all times.

When she had finished her evening chores she sat near the stove in the kitchen with some mending. Jasper had a bad habit of losing buttons so there was almost always something for her to sew. She worked until the fire in the stove dimmed and a cold draft from the back door chilled her. She had not heard one noise from Jasper's study for the entire evening and they had been in there for at least two hours. She packed away her sewing things and stashed them in her room.

Tentatively she knocked on the study door. With Jasper's permission she entered. The men were sitting on either side of Jasper's desk, each with a glass of liquor in their hand. Edward gave her a smile and stood to greet her. She gave him a timid smile back.

"I've made up the guest room for you. I was wondering if there was anything I could get for you gentlemen before I retired to my room?"

"No, thank you, Isabella." Edward said quietly.

"I'd love some more of that cake, if we have it." Jasper said as he raised his glass to drink.

"Of course, Jasper."

She turned heel and made quick work of slicing more cake for Jasper. She overfilled the plate on the off chance that Edward might change his mind. She heard their murmuring voices as she approached the study again. As she had left the door ajar she did not knock a second time. She placed the plate in front of Jasper in the middle of the desk so that it would be accessible to Edward as well.

Edward had stood again as soon as she entered the room. He shot a look of ire at Jasper for, in his opinion, disrespecting his own wife. Edward thought that if he had been lucky enough to secure the hand of one as lovely as Mrs. Jasper Cullen, he would do his utmost to respect her and treat her well. He decided to have a serious discussion with his cousin about the state of his marriage and the way he treated his wife. Obviously, the gentle admonitions he had given Jasper earlier were not enough. Jasper had managed, most successfully, to avoid talking about his marriage as much as possible with his cousin by plying him with alcohol and questions about their family and mutual acquaintances.

"Thank you for having me in your home, Isabella." Edward stated pointedly hoping his cousin would say something complimentary to her. Jasper's focus, as little as it was with several drinks in him, was on the plate of delicious cake.

"It is my pleasure, sir. Goodnight gentlemen."

Jasper nodded to her, his mouth too full of cake to answer. Out of old habit, she bobbed a curtsey and closed the study door behind her as she left. She checked the lock on the front door and the state of the parlour fire before retiring to her bedroom. She bathed and changed into her nightgown. For a long time she lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. She could hear the men talking. Sometimes the voices were louder than others, but for the main part they were quiet.

She was awake late into the night, listening and thinking. She heard the gentlemen as they went into their rooms to sleep. She had heard one of them, most likely Jasper, linger outside her room for a moment before moving on. She tried valiantly to sleep, but it evaded her for the night. One overheard phrase kept running through her mind. She would dearly love to know the answer to the interrogative that was shouted in Jasper's study, in Edward's voice.

"Damn it Jasper, do you even care for the girl at all?"

* * *

 **AN: In what way can I thank beachcomberlc this week for her help? Is one allowed to ship nubile yard boys via FedEx or would UPS be a better bet?**

 **Have I said thank you for all the lovely thoughts and reviews? Not nearly enough.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Warning: Character death in this chapter.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 9

Over the next few months, Isabella never quite learned the answer to the question Edward posed. In truth, she had no idea if Jasper cared for her at all. The question plagued her, but only minutely. However, during quiet times she asked herself the same question. Did she care for Jasper? The answer was no, not really. There was nothing to their relationship but mutual consideration. She cared for his home; the state of it and the running of it. That was her duty. But for the man himself...

There was a friendship of sorts. If one could hazard a guess, friendship seemed the strongest word for the state in which they found themselves. There was a common interest in that they both needed a clean place to live and properly prepared food. As Isabella remained in the home, she had no knowledge of the political climate in the area. She half-listened to the men as they talked of Rupert's Land becoming the province of Manitoba and part of the Dominion of Canada. She glossed over the stories of the local tribes of Assiniboine, Iroquois and Métis being forced to give up their land. She knew nothing of rebellions, protests or other troubles.

As she had little time for leisure, there was not much she could contribute to a conversation about literature. She had read a few books but did not have the same access to the written word as the men did. Most of what she was able to find time to read were works on housekeeping and cookery books.

Now that Edward was in residence with them, her workload had increased proportionally. Edward was much easier on his shirt buttons than Jasper was, but he did come home with the occasional odd stain that needed extra cleaning. He was thankful and appreciative of Isabella's efforts to keep him tidy and presentable.

Edward was in awe of this girl who had endured so much at the hands of her uncle and her husband. Neither of them deserved her consideration. Especially Jasper. He had been shocked to find Jasper still married to the girl. He had thought that she would have left him when he learned just how badly Jasper had treated her. He had thought that the marriage would have been annulled due to coercion or duress. He had thought that she would have taken the first opportunity she could to escape Jasper.

However, she hadn't. Isabella had stayed with him and even remarried him; for what reasons he did not know. Surely she did not love him, there was no affection shown between them. There were no surreptitious glances or touches. They maintained separate rooms and if there was any marital intimacy between them it was done in silence for Edward had heard nothing. Well, not quite nothing. He had heard quiet sobbing coming from Isabella's room on many a night. He knew that his presence there disrupted their lives but he had the feeling that crying into the night was commonplace for Isabella. She seemed so sad and lonely to him. Everything about her screamed for affection and understanding.

He tried to do the occasional small thing for her to show his admiration and regard. Nothing inappropriate, of course. He was ever mindful of the fact that she was not only a married woman, but a woman married to his cousin. Although, he had a difficult time reconciling those facts in his heart late at night. He really did admire her, and not always in a familial way. He appreciated the care she gave him, but he also appreciated that she was a rather pretty woman. He coveted her, in the darkest and most secret parts of his heart. In the light of day he would never admit to being beguiled by Isabella.

He knew himself well enough to know that he was jealous of Jasper. It wasn't just the want of a good woman to care for him, but rather the care of Isabella that led to his jealousy. Jasper did nothing to warrant a wife such as her. They had cursory conversations that were superficial and brief. They seemed to spend no time together save for meal times. Jasper did nothing to include his wife in his life other than provide a home for her. It saddened Edward to see his cousin and his wife so detached from each other. From what he could see from having lived with them for these months, it would never be a close and happy marriage. At best, both parties could possibly claim contentment.

Whenever Edward was in town he made an effort to buy a little token for Isabella. Most of the time he bought her little sweets, candies or fancies. Once in a while when a patient could not pay but chose to barter instead, he made sure to give the goods to Isabella. She now had a small collection of carved wooden animals and a few pairs of beautifully beaded moccasins. She never questioned why his patients would pay in women's footwear but thanked him profusely for them just the same.

Sometimes he brought home sewing needles, pins, thread or spare buttons. He enjoyed seeing her smile when he presented her with little gifts. If Jasper took umbrage to Edward plying Isabella with trinkets, he never mentioned it. To be sure, Edward wasn't even certain that Jasper noticed. Edward knew that if Jasper felt that Edward was a detriment to their marriage, Edward would be asked to leave or to live at the Inn. Edward was intended to live with Jasper until construction on his own home was completed next spring after the floods. Once his home was finished, Edward could set out to find an Isabella of his own. Perhaps once he found a wife for himself, this fascination with Isabella would cease.

Isabella noticed the vast differences between Edward and Jasper. They were similar in their physical attributes, comparable in height, and had the same nose and brow. One could tell from looking at them that they were family. Jasper's hair was lighter and had more of a tendency toward curling. Edward's hair had a deeper reddish tone and was straighter. Jasper's eyes were blue, almost grey in hue, while Edward's were green with hints of a brownish gold. .

The differences that Isabella noticed were in the gentlemen's comportment. Jasper had slightly regressed back to the frigid, emotionless man he had been before their re-marriage. He rarely spoke to Isabella and usually did so when prompted by Edward. He had ceased his quest to conceive a child and stopped visiting Isabella's bed. He wasn't unkind to her, just distant. It seemed as though there was something weighing heavily on his mind as he was often distracted during meal times. Isabella was not confident enough to question him or to even seek time alone with him. She was quite content to have Edward lead all conversations.

Edward was a very warm individual. He was forever smiling and jovial. He brought home little things for Isabella that she enjoyed. He was kind to her in ways that no one had ever been before. He tried to include her in discussions at the dinner table. He was thankful of her without being sycophantic. Isabella was sure that if she were to disappear, Jasper would not notice until his meals were not prepared.

Isabella also noticed that Edward seemed to be the main concentration of Jasper's attentions. Jasper's eyes followed his every movement. He listened with rapt attention to Edward's every word. It seemed to Isabella to be more than simple hero worship of his older cousin. It was as if there was a puzzle about Edward that Jasper was desperate to solve.

Isabella tried not to let the turmoil of the men's actions affect her but as she was sharing a home with both of them, there was no way to escape. She wondered what would change for her when Edward moved into his own home. Which Jasper would emerge once the object of his fascination left? Would he become the first Jasper, the second one or would there be a third that she would have to negotiate around?

The winter crested with a Christmas celebration like no other Isabella had ever experienced. When she was living with her aunt, Christmas meant that Isabella joined the family at the table for the feast. She was given a present, usually a dress that used to belong to her aunt or cousin and had been re-sewn to fit or a pair of sturdy new boots. As always, it was a practical present and nothing to upstage the gifts given to the treasured children of the family. She had learned at a very early age not to resent what she hadn't been given, but to enjoy that she had received a gift at all.

She had spent many a late night hour knitting and sewing presents for her new family. She had made scarves for everyone at the Inn and several new shirts for Edward and Jasper. She felt badly that she did not have the funds to purchase gifts other than the hand crafted ones, but she was glad that she was able to provide something.

For all his inattention, Jasper surprised her. He shyly gave her a small box on Christmas morning that held the most beautiful cameo broach she had ever seen. Her aunt had several; Isabella loved to look at them and feel the delicate carvings that made up the picture. The cameo from Jasper was an angel reading with a small pile of books beside her. The face of it was a light mossy green and it was edged in gold. She was so touched and impressed with the lovely gift that she kissed Jasper's cheek as she thanked him.

He also gave her several books, only one of which was a cookery book, and a box of nameplates with _Property of Mrs. Cullen_ printed on them.

Edward presented her with a long board that was curved at one end. She thanked him kindly although she had no idea what it was or how it could be used. He smiled at her indulgently as he explained that it was called a toboggan, a kind of sled that the local people used to ferry items over the snow. It was also used for entertainment. If one sat on it on the top of a hill, one could ride it down the hill at great speeds. It was a thrilling winter sport. He suggested that they pack a picnic and spend the day, just the three of them, sledding down the banks of the river near by.

The weather, however, did not cooperate with Edward's suggested plan. It was colder that winter than it had been in living memory. They were unable to spend more than a few minutes at a time out of doors. Trips to the outhouse were a production enough on their own, involving many layers of clothing and fire-warmed stones carried in ones pockets. There was little break in the frigid temperatures until one fine afternoon in March.

The weather had taken enough of a turn towards spring that the outing was set for an early Friday morning. Both gentlemen had taken the day off from work, and Isabella had work hard to be free of chores for the day. It was still too cold to picnic, but a hearty stew was set just off of the stove to be kept warm and ready to heat quickly when they returned. A fruit crumble rested in the larder well hidden under white cloth.

Isabella wore her thickest stockings and a well-worn sweater of Jasper's over her own. Her cloak would be impractical for sledding. The sweater dwarfed her, making her look like a young girl. She was tucked under two heavy quilts as she sat on the toboggan ready for the men to pull her over to the river. The cold air coloured her cheeks and stole strands of her hair from its tight bun. A shocked giggle escaped her as the men began to drag her along the hard packed snow.

Jasper was taken aback by the noise. Such a delightful noise and one he had never heard from his wife before. He glanced sideways at Edward and noticed the look of happiness on his cousin's face. As quietly as he could, Jasper whispered to Edward to run. Both men strengthened their grip on the rope attached to the toboggan and together they jerked the sled as they ran forward. Isabella's shocked giggle turned into a full laugh as she was bounced around on the sled. They stopped, winded after a few yards, and turned to look at Isabella. For just a second she looked so happy and carefree like she should, before a fierce blush took over her face. As soon as she lowered her head to hide her face, the men jerked the sled into a run again. This time she did not try to hide her glee in any way.

The journey to the riverbank was smooth and enjoyed by all. Edward found a place on the bank that had not been too worn down by other toboggans. There was a wide gap in the small trees around the river and a very steep slope. Isabella was shown the proper way to sit in the front of the toboggan and she held tight to the rope. Jasper slid in behind her and held on to her waist as he wrapped his legs along hers. Edward took his place kneeling behind Jasper and pushed them off. Isabella's shriek rent the winter air as they plunged down to the frozen river below.

It was a glorious morning.

They dove down the riverbank over and over and trudged back up again as fast as they could so that they could enjoy the next ride. The configuration of the riders changed once in a while, different pairs of two and the men went down once each on their own as the others watched. The second to last trip included all of them with Jasper in the front and Isabella kneeling at the back. For their last trip it was decided that Isabella would go down alone. Edward helped her drag the sled back up the hill as Jasper waited below. Edward got Isabella situated, then gave her a very strong push for an extra thrilling ride. What they failed to take into account was that the much lighter load of just Isabella would allow the toboggan to travel much further over the flat frozen river.

The toboggan shot out almost to the other side of the river, close to a weakened patch of ice that had recently been used for ice fishing. When Isabella stood from her ride, there was a loud cracking noise and she fell through the ice and disappeared.

Shouting her name, Jasper ran over to the spot where she had fallen through. Not in his right mind, he neglected everything he knew of ice safety, and he too plunged into the icy water. Edward had just enough sense to grab the quilts from their pile near the launching area and ran down the riverbank. He ran to the middle of the river and flung himself to his belly to crawl along the ice. It was slow going and torturous work, especially not knowing if he would be able to save his family. As he crawled forward he saw first one, and then another head break through the water and bob just at the surface.

"Jasper!"

"Edward, grab her. I can't hold on."

Edward was still a few feet from them but propelled himself to them as fast as he could, leaving the quilts behind.

Jasper was holding Isabella under the arms as her head lolled to the side. He was trying to foist her up and onto the ice shelf. However, with all the extra layers she needed in order to keep warm, she was too heavy. He managed to loosen her skirts and let them fall to the river bottom. By the time Edward was within reach, they were able to remove the heavy sweater and, by pushing and pulling, dragged her out of the water and on to the ice. She coughed and spluttered but remained unconscious throughout the whole ordeal. Edward pulled her away from the hole and over to the blankets he had abandoned. He rolled her into one of them, checked her breathing and heartbeat and then crawled back to the hole to help Jasper.

Jasper had tried to heave himself out of the water but the ice kept breaking under his arms. As he struggled, he watched his cousin tend to his wife. Jasper's teeth rattled together and he lost all feeling below his waist. He could scarcely catch his breath as he heard his heart pounding in his chest.

Edward reached the edge of the ice and stretched his hand out to pull Jasper to safety. Jasper grasped Edward's hand in both of his and, kicking as hard as he could, tried again to get out of the water. He made it out just to his ribcage when the ice crumbled again and he fell back. Edward scrambled backwards and reached out his hand again. Jasper grabbed hold and Edward pulled with all his might. Again, Jasper fell back into the water.

"Damn it, Jasper. Try harder!"

"I can't Edward, there is nothing left in me."

"Don't give up Jasper, she needs you. I need you." Edward pulled at Jasper, but could hear the ice cracking under them.

"She'd be better off without me. You love her, don't you?"

Edward looked in shock at his cousin. He thought that he'd concealed his feelings for Isabella from Jasper.

"You love her like I never could. And I know she could never love me. Not after what I've done to her. Take care of her if she'll have you. Give her everything I couldn't."

Edward shouted as Jasper wrenched his hands away and slipped under the ice for the last time.

* * *

 **AN: It had always been my intention to kill Jasper, either by suicide or accident. I wanted to give him just a little redemption before offing him.**

 **beachcomberlc is my hero. She yells at me like a mother, talks to me like a sister and puts up with me like a saint.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Warning: Aftermath and discussion of character death in this chapter.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 10

Edward crawled as quickly as he could back to where Isabella lay. He was pleased to find that she was still breathing. However, her skin was mottled and very cold to the touch. He would have to warm her or risk losing her, too. The toboggan had disappeared when Isabella fell through the ice so Edward used the second quilt as a stretcher to drag her back up the hill. When they had reached the top, he picked her up in his arms and walked as quickly as he could to the carriage house. It was a difficult journey and very slow going. Edward was thankful for the hard packed snow, but cursed the cold with every other step. The stairs proved the hardest part of the journey as Edward was almost exhausted by the time they came into sight.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he closed the kitchen door. The room was warmer than the out of doors, but not too warm as to send Isabella into shock. He knew from lessons he had been given by an Iroquois elder about the treatment of overly chilled people that warming Isabella too quickly could hurt her. He also remembered the advice he was given to remove all her clothing and to use his own heat to warm her, but he did not think that it would be a prudent idea. His sense of propriety would not let him lay unclothed with her.

He laid her in the middle of the kitchen and removed his coat and other outer clothing. He stoked the fire and put the kettle on to heat. He foraged for dry blankets and a change of garments for Isabella. He felt badly for rummaging through her personal items but knew that she would fare better in dry clothing. He also fetched a handful of small towels.

Isabella was still sleeping when he returned to the kitchen. Her colour had improved some, but she was still cold to the touch and parts of her hair were frozen. Her breathing was stronger now that they were indoors, her heart rate steady but weak. Taking great care to be detached, he removed her sodden clothes and slipped the clean, dry nightgown over her head. For all his detachment, he still noticed the shape of her. He resolved not to think on that, at the moment. The kettle was starting to steam, so he poured the warmed water into a bowl and tempered it with colder water from the bucket of fresh water by the sink. The water was tepid when he doused the cloth and wrung it out. He wiped the washcloth over her hands and feet, squeezing the limbs gently. None of her digits were black so he knew that she would be all right when she awoke—at least physically. He had no idea how she would react to the news that her husband had died.

He remoistened the flannel and wiped her face, neck and arms. He used a dry cloth to blot the wet from her hair. Her skin started to show signs of reanimation and health. He lifted her from the floor and carried her to her bedroom. After he tucked her into her bed he went to his own room to change his clothes. He did not know how long she would sleep, but the longer the better in his opinion. He all but ran to the Inn and asked Emmett to fetch the constabulary. He informed Emmett of the accident and asked that an officer come to the carriage house so that he could make a report.

Isabella had not stirred, for all he could tell, so he left her to rest. He heated the neglected stew and brewed a pot of tea. He was tempted to add a healthy shot of something to his tea, but he did not want to be intoxicated when the police arrived. He took a moment to think of what Jasper had done. What had possessed him to sacrifice his life for Isabella when, by his own admission, he did not even care for the girl? Perhaps he did care just a little; she had been his wife after all. How could he have said that he did not care for her?

Edward wondered what Isabella would think about Jasper's death. Would she be prostrate with grief and difficult to console? Or perhaps she would take the news with the same stoic strength she had shown for all the time he had known her. He did not know, but he also did not relish the thought of telling her. So much had been taken from her in her lifetime, now it was her husband who was stolen from her.

Edward dozed in the warm kitchen. He was exhausted from both the activity of the day and the enormity of the events that had happened. He had not fallen into deep sleep when he heard rustling nearby. He raised his head to see Isabella standing in the doorway in her nightgown and wrapper.

"Please forgive my state of dress. I did not know if anyone else was up and about." Isabella clutched the wrapper closer to her body and bowed her head in embarrassment.

"How are you feeling? Please, sit. Are you well?" Edward stood to usher her over to her chair.

"I am faring well, thank you for asking."

"What do you remember of today?"

"I remember flying down the hill. I remember the ice giving way under my feet and being very cold. Thank you for saving me from the water."

Edward placed a strong cup of tea at her side.

"Jasper jumped into the water to get you. He hoisted you out."

"I shall thank him as well when I see him."

"Isabella, Jasper did not survive. I couldn't pull him out."

Isabella was confused. She did not know what to think as tears came to her eyes unbidden.

Edward was just about to speak again when a knock on the door interrupted him. After a long discourse with two members of the local constabulary and being absolved of any wrongdoing, Edward found himself alone with Isabella again. She sat dazed and quiet. He was not sure if he should let her be or if he should speak to her. He sat beside her and waited for some sort of reaction from her. When the police were there she answered their questions as best she could but offered nothing more.

After what seemed to Edward to be hours, she drew a shuddering breath and spoke.

"May I have a few days, then?"

"A few days? What do you mean?"

"A few days before I have to leave. I assume that you will need my help with the funeral and the gathering afterward. Once that is over, I shall gather my things and leave."

"Why would you leave, Isabella? This is your home."

"I am presuming that as a representative of Jasper's family, you would ask me to leave so that you can settle his property. I just ask for a few days to make arrangements or possibly find employment." She stood and made to leave the room. She had many things to do now that Jasper had perished. The carriage house must be cleaned thoroughly for sale along with the Inn. His funeral clothes needed to be laundered. There were funeral foods to be prepared. Edward wouldn't need to keep the Inn as he had a career of his own. She did not know if another member of Jasper's family would take ownership. Her head ached with lists of things she had to do before she was forced out onto her own.

"Isabella. You do not have to leave here. No one is asking you to go." Edward's voice stopped her before she reached the doorway.

"You wish me to stay? As your housekeeper or maid? Do you plan to stay here then?"

"No, Isabella, you are still the lady of the house. You are Jasper's wife."

"Was Jasper's wife, and not much of a wife at that. I could not do what he asked of me. I could not give him the one thing he needed. He only married me to provide him with a child and to save face with the desk clerk who knew that I was to arrive. I was a failure and a burden, as I have been all my life. It is my fault that he died, just as it was my fault that he lived in misery for the past two years. He never should have taken me from the river. I should go before I harm you as well."

With that, she left the room.

Edward remained where he was, in shock. How could she take everything unto herself? Did she honestly believe the vitriol she spoke of herself? Moreover, he would curse Jasper in his grave if he led her to believe such tripe. If Jasper had ever uttered a word such as that to her, Edward would spit on his coffin as well. He had promised to take care of her, to give her what Jasper couldn't. And he would. But he hadn't realised just how daunting that task would be.

Edward left her alone for the rest of the night. He went back over to the Inn to speak with Emmett and the rest of the staff. He asked Emmett to take on any tasks that Jasper would have undertaken and consider himself the Inn's manager for the interim. He helped to console the maids and assured them that their jobs were secure. He knew nothing of running an Inn, but felt confident in Emmett and his wife Rosalie. The efficient management of the Inn was crucial, as it would provide Isabella with enough income to secure her future. It would be a cold day in hell before Edward saw Isabella working for a living. He had a general idea as to Jasper's will and the arrangements he had made for her.

He also knew that as Jasper's closest relative, he would be in charge of handling the details surrounding Jasper's death. He spent a few hours in Jasper's office writing letters to the family. He told them of Isabella and their marriage. He spoke glowingly about her and her way of caring for Jasper. He wanted no question to be asked of her and the nature of the relationship between her and Jasper. As with every family, there is always one member who would seek to strive for discord and he would have none of that for Isabella.

Edward had his dinner with Emmett and Rosalie. Together, they discussed the events of the next few days. The Inn had only a few guests, all of them trappers and voyageurs who had stayed at the Inn in the past. They were an understanding and accommodating group who asked to be involved in the funeral and would not be demanding while the staff was in mourning. The guests and the staff all gathered together and raised a glass to toast the life of Jasper Cullen.

By the time Edward returned to the carriage house it was late in the evening, and he was a little tipsy from the toasting. He was very glad to find that Jasper had a stellar reputation as a kind employer and great Innkeeper. Whatever his failings were as a husband, his staff had loved him and that spoke to Edward as to the type of man Jasper was. He struggled to open the door, trying very hard to be quiet and not disturb Isabella. He shed his coat and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. He felt badly for abandoning her for the evening when he noticed the plate she had left for him at his place. He wanted to kick himself for neglecting to leave her a note to tell her where he was. He felt himself an idiot for leaving her alone after the horrific day they had experienced. He covered the plate and left it in the pantry. He gathered his senses and sobered slightly with a large glass of water. He had just started down the hall to bed when he heard Isabella cry out.

Without thinking, Edward ran into her room to find her thrashing about in her bed. She was deep in the throws of a nightmare, crying and whimpering like a wounded animal. Her hair was a tangle about her head and in her troubles she had dislodged her coverings. He knelt at her bedside but did not touch her. He wanted to soothe her but not wake her. He spoke to her softly with words of caring and reassurances that she was safe. Her struggles lessened and the crying stopped. She still whimpered softly as he dared reach out one hand and gently swipe the hair from her face. He stood and carefully covered her with her blankets before kneeling beside her again. He watched her face as she settled into a more composed sleep.

Edward wanted so much to crawl into bed with her, just to hold her tight and keep her safe. However, he knew that was one of the more asinine ideas he had ever had. If she were to wake and find him there, well, he shuddered at the thought. He wished to kiss away every one of her tears and let propriety be damned. He wanted to hold her head to his chest and let her be comforted by his heartbeat. He wanted more than he was allowed to want from his cousin's fresh widow. Slowly, he backed away from her and he stood to look at her once again.

"Sleep well, Isabella. I wish I could tell you just how much I do care and will care for you if you would permit it. I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right and you needn't worry any more. I wish I could tell you so many different things. But alas, I cannot, for now. Just rest well, Isabella."

He turned and left the room.

Just after the door closed and the latch caught, Isabella sat bolt upright in her bed. Her eyes flew open.

 **AN: Isabella needs some serious reconditioning. I hope our boy is up to the task.**

 **beachcomberlc, my friend, I can picture her sitting in her verdant garden, ipad one hand, thesaurus in the other saying _what the hell is that word, can you use that word that way or is it just some weird Canadian thing?_**


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 11

Isabella did not know, at first, what had woken her. The images in her head from her dream were awful, but the soft voice of Edward consoling her made them disappear.

In her dream she had fallen through the ice and was struggling to keep herself afloat. Jasper stood to the side and just watched as she tried to get out of the water. There was no expression on his face. It was as if he were watching a fly or some other insignificant creature. He made no move to help her as the ice broke around her. She could see Edward at the top of the hill but Jasper shifted to the side and blocked most of her sight of Edward. She knew, as one knows in dreams, that Edward had no idea what was happening with her. Jasper tilted his head to one side and continued to watch her drown. He turned and walked away as her head went under the water for the last time. Her body sank to the bottom of the river and lay there for a few moments before drifting along with the current. She felt as though she was still alive but unable to move.

Edwards's whispered words did not make any sense; she could not understand which words he was using, just the tone and timbre of them. But she knew in an instant where she was and who was speaking to her. She felt him move her hair from her face and replace the covers. Isabella felt better once she was warm again. She did not, however, wish to make things between them more awkward by letting him know that she was awake. She knew that her being awake would lead to a conversation, one that she would prefer not to have in the middle of the night. She did not want to tell Edward about her dream. It would only serve to make him more angry with her if he thought she was blaming Jasper in any way, even in her dreams.

Although, in contemplation, Edward did not seem angry with her. She had heard his parting words. He seemed to be sad, which was expected; after all he had just lost his cousin and was now saddled with the task of taking care of said cousin's business and widow. He had said that he cared for her. She was certain he meant fraternally. Perhaps, out of all of this, she could gain the kind of familial love she had always wanted.

She stared into the darkness of the night and waited for sleep to claim her once again.

Isabella tossed and turned the rest of the night, unable to drift into a solid sleep.

When she finally gave up on sleeping, she walked into the kitchen ready to start the chores of the day. She would have a few hours before any visitors came to call and, most likely, many rounds of tea to serve. She started arranging a breakfast for herself and Edward when the man in question entered through the back door. He had a basket in each hand and a grim expression on his face.

"Good morning Isabella, how are you?" His grim expression quickly turned to one of concern while noting the look of exhaustion on Isabella's face.

"I'm fine Edward, thank you." She rushed over to help him with his burdens. Edward closed the door with his now free hand and placed the other basket on the table beside its mate.

"I hope you have not had a chance to start breakfast. I have a full meal here from Rosalie."

"No, I've only just started the water for tea."

"Good, we need to talk while it boils. Please sit and let me tend to breakfast."

Edward brought forth item after item from one of the baskets. Still warm hard-boiled eggs, a loaf of brown bread, a crock of porridge and two plates of bacon and sausage. The meats he put near the kettle to warm as he sliced the bread thickly. While the tea steeped, he plated an enormous amount of food for both of them and served a stunned Isabella.

"I'm sorry that I left you on your own last night. It was very kind of you to leave dinner for me. I met with the staff and, begging your pardon, made several decisions without your input. In an hour, Rosalie will be here to help clean and ready the house for anyone who might come to pay their respects. Jasper was well liked in the community and the news of his passing has spread. The ladies at the Inn are preparing cakes and sandwiches to serve and will bring them over when the guests have finished their breakfast at the Inn. The guests have all have stayed there before and are eager to help if needs be. Emmett has taken it upon himself to arrange a service for Jasper in the main dining hall. The ladies will provide food for the wake and for anyone who wishes to stay on after that."

Isabella stared at him, dumbfounded. Every task she was to arrange had been taken.

"Are you feeling any ill effects from yesterday? I should have asked after your health earlier; I do apologize. If you are feeling poorly I can have any visitors entertained at the Inn rather than here."

"I feel fine."

"Good. We need to make sure you are taken care of as well. Yesterday was very difficult. Please let me know if you start to feel ill. Please?"

"I will, Edward. Thank you."

Edward dove into his breakfast like a starving man. In truth, he was starving. The day before he had only drank his dinner and had been awake for many hours. The reality of the situation he now found himself in was daunting and he needed to fuel his body to fight his mind. His mind was thousands of steps ahead of his heart. He longed to comfort her but had no earthly notion of how to go about it, without betraying himself and Jasper.

Delicately and with trepidation, Isabella picked up her knife and fork and began to eat. The food lay heavily in her stomach and she could only force a few bites before she gave up. She found great consolation in her teacup and held it to her chest as if to warm her heart. For, although the rest of her was warm, her heart felt frozen. She felt no misery at the death of her husband. She did not know how to appear to mourn him before people who may truly be deep in sorrow for his loss. At most, she would miss the fledgling friendship they had. She would miss knowing that she was protected.

The afternoon passed with interminable awkwardness, beginning with the arrival of Rosalie to help with the preparations. Isabella had just finished the breakfast dishes when she arrived. After she hung up her coat and removed her boots, Rosalie came to stand in front of Isabella and assessed her for a very long while. She then gathered Isabella in her arms and held her in an almost crushing embrace. Isabella was unsure how to react. She very tentatively placed her hands on Rosalie's waist. She could not recall the last time some had given her a hug.

As Rosalie bustled about the house, dusting and tidying, Isabella set herself to the task of pressing a suit for Jasper's burial service. It was a task that kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.

Gentlemen and matrons from the town arrived in dribs and drabs. They were not without company until darkness fell. Edward had steered as many of the questions away from Isabella as he could. He sat a respectable distance from her but upon the same settee. Rosalie was almost feline in her silent way of slipping in and out of the room to refill teacups and plates. The chatter from the guests was all the same. How sorry they were to hear the news. What a shock it was that he was gone. What will become of the Inn? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

They all spoke to what a wonderful man Jasper was, how he helped to form the business community. How he worked so hard and cared so much for his staff. How devastated Isabella must be to go from bride to widow in so short a time. They meant well and they honestly cared for Jasper and by extension, Isabella. None of them knew or could fathom what had occurred behind closed doors in the near year Isabella had spent incarcerated by Jasper. Nor did they know about the awkward months of trying to be friends with someone who terrified you.

Save for one.

Edward knew.

Edward understood just how difficult these meetings were for Isabella. Or rather, he thought he knew. She was such a stoic little thing, never letting emotion show. While he had heard her cry late into the night, she never showed sadness to him. He had only heard her laugh one time but resolved to hear it again, once an appropriate amount of time had passed.

The ground was still frozen on the day they were to lay Jasper to rest. There would be no burial until after spring thaw and with only a suit to bury, at that. Perhaps his body would wash ashore at some point and he could be laid to rest then. A small gathering at what would be his gravesite stood beside the empty coffin and murmured the hymns to send his spirit onward. His widow wore no veil but had a thick black cape covering her mourning wear. A pale green cameo was pinned to the fabric at her throat. Isabella leaned heavily on the arm of Jasper's cousin Edward as person after person expressed their condolences to the widow. Isabella maintained her dignity and did not shed a tear. She accepted the sympathy and well-wishes of everyone, all the while feeling like a fraud. She was certain that someone would shout out to the crowd: **_she did this to him, she ruined him, she does not even care that he died._**

The day after the funeral service, Jasper's solicitor met with Edward and Isabella to execute Jasper's will and last wishes as he knew them. Isabella was not surprised to hear Edward receive almost the entirety of Jasper's estate. The Inn and the property were now Edward's to do with as he saw fit. What did surprise Isabella was the allowance that Jasper had decreed was to be hers for the rest of her life or until she remarried. Jasper's endowment left her in a comfortable position. She needn't gain employment or seek her fortunes elsewhere. She was even allowed to stay at the carriage house for as long as she wanted. Or if she preferred, Jasper's estate would fund the building of the home of her choice. Isabella was aghast. She never suspected that Jasper would consider her in his last wishes.

For the better part of an afternoon, Isabella stood by the mantle and stared into the fire. Her head was reeling from the solicitor's words. She remembered every moment of her arrival to this home, every harsh word Jasper had flung at her, and every apology he gave her for his behaviour. She ran conversation after conversation through her mind.

Edward sat in a wing chair and waited for Isabella to sort everything out. So much had happened over the course of the last week. Jasper's death, the condolence calls, the funeral and the reading of the will. Edward had been unable to get more than a few words out of Isabella in all that time. He had no idea what she was thinking or feeling, but he desperately wanted to know. So, he asked.

"I'm thinking about Jasper. I'm thinking about my life."

"What about Jasper and your life?"

"I'm thinking about what a fraud I am."

"Whatever do you mean? How are you a fraud?"

"I did not love Jasper."

Edward waited for her to continue. She paced a tight circuit in front of the fireplace.

"All those people at the service loved and respected him. To them, he was a great man and a good employer. He deserved their love and he gave it right back to them tenfold."

"Isabella, he gave them cause to love him. He did not give you the same. From what he told me, he gave you no reason to care for him. He was a bastard to you; please forgive my language. But it is true. He all but tortured you for no cause. How could you be expected to care for him when he treated you so shamefully?"

"What is wrong with me that makes me so unlovable? Which horrendous sins did I commit to deserve this punishment? Is there no one who could care for me? Obviously not. My only redemption would have been to give Jasper the child he so wanted. Apparently, though, I am evil enough for no child to take purchase. A child would have loved me until it knew better. I would have been able to give all my love to a child but I guess I am barren and now wasted, with no husband and no prospect for either."

"Isabella, did you ever consider that, perhaps, it was Jasper who could not give you a child and not your fault at all? It takes a man just as much as it takes a woman to create a child."

Isabella stared at him blankly. It had always been her fault. She had never considered that the responsibility could lie with Jasper.

"And why couldn't you marry again? Many widows take another husband. Many men would fight for the chance to win your hand."

Isabella made a derisive noise at the back of her throat and clamped her hand over her mouth at the sound.

"You don't believe me? Isabella, you are young and very attractive, beautiful even. You could have your pick of the eligible men in the area."

Isabella just shook her head sadly. She knew that Edward's pretty words were just that.

"That is very kind of you to say, but I know it is not true. No, 'twould be better to remain to myself and live out my years that way. Who could possibly want a wasted widow such as myself?"

"I could." Edward whispered. He stood and walked over to Isabella to stop her pacing.

 **AN: One day, my goal is to write a chapter that will not have beachcomberlc shaking her head and saying WTF?. 'Tis a lofty goal, for sure, but I aim high.**

 **My other goal is to thank each and every one of you for the kind reviews and support. Thank you for reading.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 12

"I could. I know it is too soon and vastly inappropriate to say, but damn it Isabella, I would have you in a trice. You pull at my heartstrings so." Edward laid his hands upon her shoulders.

Isabella turned her head to one side to look at the hand on her shoulder. She could feel the heat and weight of it but only upon seeing it there could she believe that he was touching her. She could not bring herself to look him in the eye, but watched as his thumb brushed over her collarbone in small circles.

"I know the thought has never entered your mind and that if Jasper were still alive you would not even entertain the thought, but I am yours if you'll have me."

Isabella took one step back, breaking the hold Edward had on her shoulders.

"I'm not saying now, or even soon, but you need to be aware that you have options. I would never treat you as he did. Even if the idea is abhorrent to you, I would still like to remain in your life as family."

Isabella turned and sat in the wing chair Edward had just vacated. He was presenting her with something she had never had before and never considered that she would ever have; a choice. But could she in good conscience take up with the cousin of her late husband? Could she buck society's rules and marry again so soon after the death of her first husband? What damage would come to her reputation and to Edward's if they were to wed? What would his family think if they were to wed? She did not know how to voice these concerns to Edward.

"I can't think; I have not the words. I can't." Isabella shook her head back and forth trying desperately to explain herself.

"Shh, Isabella. I understand. I've sprung this on you at a very inopportune time. It is terribly gauche of me, I know, but I need you to consider the idea."

"Are you in want of an heir, too?"

"No, sweet girl. While I would like children at some point, that is not why I am telling you this."

"What do you want then, if not a child?"

"You. Just you."

Isabella's breath stuttered. Her head was swimming. She felt as though she could faint at any moment.

Edward walked to the liquor cart and poured a small amount of brandy into a glass, then handed it to Isabella. He encouraged her to sip the drink as he poured himself a larger one. He sat on the settee and began to speak.

"When Jasper wrote to me about finding himself a wife I had no idea what I was leading you into. His intentions were sound and I thought he would be kind. Your uncle played that nasty trick and turned Jasper into the monster you knew. Then later, when he wrote again for clarification on your character, I confronted your uncle. When I learned of how you had lived in his house and what he had said about you, it sickened me. I wrote to Jasper as quickly as I could so that, perhaps, things would change. I thought that you would leave him. I knew he wasn't worthy of you.

After his last letter, well, I settled my affairs in Nova Scotia as soon as I was able and made the journey to confront Jasper. I've watched you all these months, living in torment and enduring. None of this has been your fault. I can't put words to how I truly feel. There is so much that I wish I could say. But here I am, rambling on like a mad man. I know you have only just buried a husband that did not care for you properly. I know that in some way you are mourning that loss. And it is too soon. He was my cousin and my friend, but for the way he treated you I would have happily cuffed him upside the head."

He downed the rest of his drink in one go and continued with his convoluted tale.

"I found more papers in Jasper's office. He was writing to various magistrates and such, seeking an annulment. He was trying to set you free the only way he knew how. He knew a divorce would hinder you. He was claiming that he coerced you into marriage, forced you time and again. He was falling on his sword to give you a chance to be happy with someone else. He hadn't the chance to finish the letters or send them, but he was trying."

"Why would he do that? Why would he do that for me?"

"Perhaps he did care for you in his own way. Perhaps he knew that someone else would be better for you. Perhaps he knew that another loved you but could do nothing because you were his wife. Maybe that is why he let go that afternoon."

"Do you really think he killed himself for me? That makes no sense; it doesn't seem like something he would do. At least not over me."

"I think that he realised that there was no hope for him. He had been in the water for a long time and he was quickly freezing to death. I think that he accepted the inevitable and wanted absolution before dying. Even if I had been able to get him out of the water, there was no possible way to care for you both and get you both to safety. For the first time since you came into his life he did something noble. He freed you the only way he could."

"I rather think that Jasper was freeing himself."

"Possibly, but his last words were about you. He knew, even without me telling him, how I felt about you. He asked me to take care of you and to give you everything he could not."

Isabella stared into the fire as Edward sat watching her. He had hoped to gently lead her into the idea of accepting his hand once her mourning period was over. There was so much he wanted for her and even more that he wanted to give her should she allow him. She deserved the world for all her trials and he wished to be the man to give it to her. He knew that he had to tread carefully. He also knew that to please him, with no consideration for herself, she would accept him. He knew that she was desperate for any kind of affection and needed the utmost care.

As he watched her lose herself in the flames to her memories, he began to formulate a plan of action. A way to show her just how she should expect to be treated by a man intent on becoming her husband. To show her that she had worth. To give her a future full of possibilities.

Edward's planning came to an abrupt halt with a long sigh from Isabella.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

"I do not wish to burden you," she said, moving her eyes to stare at her hands upon her lap instead of the flames.

"Isabella, you could never be a burden to me."

"No, just an obligation."

The words were so quiet, Edward wasn't sure if she had even said them out loud.

Edward stood from the settee so quickly that its hind legs thumped on the floor. He stood in front of her, looking down at the crown of her head. He waited until she finally looked him in the eye, craning her neck.

"Not an obligation; never an obligation or a burden. Isabella, you are not and never will be a millstone around my neck or a hairshirt I am forced to wear. I wish I could prove to you the sincerity of my intentions. And I will, given time. What you need most now is time, and I am a patient man. Give me six months to prove it to you. Six months to prove your worth and subsequently, mine. Please?"

Isabella almost scoffed at the idea. She knew well enough that she had no worth and six months would not disprove that notion.

Reluctantly she nodded her assent. She could easily give him six months. She had given Jasper three times that amount and he had not grown to care for her. In six months she could possibly leave this place and start anew elsewhere.

"I have some stipulations, however." He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet.

"Of course you do." She stood there looking straight ahead which meant that she was gazing directly on one of the buttons of his shirt. She noticed that the thread was discoloured and that the button would need to be re-sewn soon.

"Firstly, I am going to take up residence at the Inn until such time as my own home is ready. You need time to discover who you are to yourself before you can really pledge yourself to another."

The idea of caring for no one but herself was foreign to Isabella. However, it could be good training for the solitary life she envisioned for herself in the future.

"Secondly, I would ask permission to visit often and have you accompany me on several outings. I wish to know more about this town we live in and I would like to escort you while doing that."

Again she nodded.

"Thirdly, I would like to provide you with certain items, Books, materials and such. Now that you no longer have others in your home to care for, you will need something to occupy your time. It will take a while to find subjects that interest you."

"Fourthly, I would ask that you make this home your own. Remove anything that displeases you without thinking of anyone taking offence. Jasper confessed that there was nothing of you here, that this house was almost a shrine to Mary Alice as it still held pieces of her. You have the funds to redecorate as you wish, a carriage at your disposal for shopping, and no one to contravene your decisions."

"Fifthly…"

Isabella decided that it would take the entire six months just for him to go over his stipulations.

"I wish you to always speak your mind to me. Whatever it is that you are thinking, say it. There will be no recourse or admonition. If I anger you, and I will, tell me in no certain terms. If I inadvertently amuse you with my maladroit idiocy, laugh."

Isabella could not even contemplate the idea of speaking her true mind. It would be impossible.

"And lastly..."

Edward paused and waited for some sort of reaction from Isabella. He could see that he was irritating her, he had watched her closely for the past few months and could understand the subtle showing of emotion in her face. He still held one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze. She finally raised her eyes to look into his. He let go of her hand and brought one of his to rest on the small of her back. The barest tip of his tongue left his mouth as he drew his bottom lip in underneath the top. A hint of a smile graced his strikingly handsome face as her eyes watched the movement.

Edward took a small step forward and closed the distance between them. He curled the fingers of his free hand around the back of Isabella's neck and inclined his head to hers. She watched as he came nearer and nearer, not believing what was about to happen. As soft as a breeze, his mouth brushed over hers, barely touching at first. She held herself stiff and waited. She had been kissed on the mouth all of one time and the occasion failed to spark any interest within her. It seemed a strange and silly thing to do, to place one's mouth on another's and hold it there for a moment.

The hand on her back clenched and drew her even closer as Edward kissed her with more passion. He turned his head slightly and began to move his lips over hers. As he pressed his lips harder and harder against her mouth, a feeling of dizzy weightlessness washed over her. She found that her arms, which had been straight at her sides, were now dangling behind her as her back bowed under the pressure of his kiss. Without knowing what she was doing, she brought her hands up to grasp at his shoulders. He gave a low groan when she clung to him and the noise of it surprised her. Her jaw went slack and the tongue that had captured her attention before slipped just past her lips.

Her body started to react to the sensations. Her heart sped up, her breathing faltered and her temperature rose. She noticed that his breathing was also affected. He was enjoying kissing her and that knowledge shocked her. With no conscious effort she began to kiss him, too. Her lips working in rhythm with his, her mouth opening and her tongue gently sweeping along his. An almost startled whimper escaped her and she felt bereft when he slowly withdrew. She was so caught up in the kiss and had wanted it to go on forever.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the intense look on his face. He smiled slowly at her and carefully moved backwards until she was upright again.

"I have wanted to do that for months and I want to do it over and over again. But I won't kiss you again until you are ready, until you ask me to, then I won't be able to stop."

Edward removed his hands and stepped even further away from her. She wanted to follow, to have him hold her tightly again and make her head spin with dizziness. However, Isabella was only able to watch as he gathered his greatcoat and left the carriage house.

She stood there in stunned disbelief as the sound of his steps on the stairs faded.

 **AN: Have I yet mentioned how much I adore working with beachcomberlc? Although I'm sure my word choices and phrases sometimes make her reach for Tylenol or wine, she is ever so nice to me.**

 **There may be a delay in the next few chapters. I will try to keep to my posting schedule but I ask that you forgive me if I am a day or two late. So in lieu I recommend reading anything by Hopesparkles, Content1, Shasta53, Edward's Eternal, Drotuno, and many others.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 13

True to his word, Edward did not try to kiss Isabella again.

The first month Edward brought over book after book and pressed an education of sorts on her. History, geography, economics and politics were the focus of evening conversations. He would deliberately provoke her into sharing her true opinion by making the most asinine comments and suggestions. He would push and goad her until she could take it no longer. She had yet to realise just how comfortable she was becoming in his presence. They held arguments late into the evening.

Next he brought great and not-so-great works of literature. There were romances that made Isabella blush, tragedies that made her cry and a few humorous tales that made her laugh. These were not so hotly debated but discussed just the same.

He also began to expand her cultural horizons by bringing over the occasional meal provided by some of his patients; old-world cuisine with difficult to pronounce names and mysterious ingredients. Most were quite delicious, some were fair and one or two were disgusting. One Saturday afternoon he arrived at her home with an ancient woman who spoke no English. Through hand gestures, smiles and much pointing Isabella learned to make pierogi, a potato dumpling. When she had perfected her technique, the elderly woman gently patted Isabella's cheeks and rattled off what sounded like kind words about her. Isabella, although she had no idea what the woman said, felt pride for having learned and basked in the glow of the praise.

One very warm late spring morning, Edward bundled Isabella into the carriage with Emmett and Rosalie. They all refused to tell her where they were going, but Rosalie held Isabella's hand and chatted with her the entire journey to relieve her worries. By noon they reach a small village in a heavily wooded area. A crowd of people gathered, men, women and children, all smiling and calling to Emmett by name. He greeted everyone and made introductions. Emmett, in his trapping days, often stayed in the village and came to be friendly, if not family, with everyone there. When he was injured he recovered there and did whatever he could to help the people who cared for him. The people were Assiniboine and Métis. They welcomed Rosalie as an honorary sister. Edward, upon being introduced as a doctor, was squired away by some of the elder women to see to any injuries or maladies the village may have had. Emmett explained that Isabella was a widow and then she and Rosalie were taken in-hand by a large group of women and led further into the woods to a clearing.

There the women told stories as a fire was built and food prepared. When the meal was under way, the women removed their outer clothing and gathered around a very warm, very smelly, very dark coloured pool of water to bathe. Rosalie was quick to strip down to her shift and encouraged Isabella to do the same. Very cautiously, Isabella dipped her toes in the water. It was the colour of old tea and smelled earthy, but not rank. One woman explained that it was a natural bath and was very good for the body. Isabella slipped into the warm water and hummed with pleasure.

Two of the ladies came up behind her and took her hair out of its severe bun. They wet her hair and rubbed a poultice of mud and leaves into it. They then took turns applying the same mixture to everyone else. One by one, heads were dunked under the water to remove the mud. The ladies lined up on the shore and rinsed off with leather jugs of fresh water. Rosalie handed Isabella a clean shift and gave her a wink.

After they were all dressed, they ate a hearty rabbit stew with fresh-baked bread which Rosalie called bannock. Once the meal was finished, several wooden combs were produced and in a circle the women brushed each other's hair. The woman behind Isabella raved about the weight and texture of her hair, causing all the other women to gather around her and feel it for themselves. Isabella was told over and over again how lovely she was, how smooth her skin felt, how entrancing her eyes were, for it was a tradition to help a young widow ease her mourning by honest veneration and adulation.

Isabella came away from her afternoon of pampering with a new-found sense of sisterhood, as well as a greater understanding of the power of kind words and gestures by strangers. She was happy, relaxed and sated and she thoroughly enjoyed the buggy ride home in the waning evening light. Edward kept stealing glances at her as they drove. She wore a soft smile on her face that he had never seen before.

She was content.

Edward reminded himself to thank Emmett and Rosalie for suggesting the outing. He had spent an enjoyable afternoon looking after the small ailments of the village as well as dispensing advice to all those who asked. He and Emmett had filled a couple of boxes with bandages and remedies for the town as their healer was away on a long hunting trip. Edward, for his effort, was recompensed handsomely with the broad smiles of his patients as well as the promise of several of Isabella's favourite fish when the smoking was next done.

In the beginning of the third month, Edward brought over great sheets of paper, paints, pencils and books on art for Isabella to try her hand. Isabella had never had the time to express herself artistically. She tried drawing pictures of her garden, her home, the landscape around the Inn. She tried the watercolours, the charcoal pencils, and even the oil paints. She failed miserably in every medium. She fumed around the house feeling sorry for herself and angry with Edward that he would suggest drawing as an amusement for her. When he asked to see her artwork she slammed the book on the table in front of him and turn heel out the door. Edward tried his damnedest not to laugh at her reaction. He never mentioned art to her again. He took the pencils and paints from the house and gave them to a local school.

A few weeks later, having recovered from her temper tantrum, Isabella found herself flipping through some of the art books on a rainy afternoon. Most were pastoral landscapes and vibrant cityscapes. The one she had avoided, the thickest tome, was of portraits and nudes. She was shocked by the brazen yet beautiful images of women in various stages of undress. She had never seen a person unclothed before, not even herself.

Isabella had been raised very modestly and her aunt instilled in her to be prudent and that her body was to remain covered. It wasn't a harsh lesson, she was taught this very kindly, but it was a lesson that stayed with her to this day. She wondered both how the artist came to paint such lascivities and how one could persuade another to pose for such a picture. She shuddered to think of such negotiations. None of the women looked to be terrified or under duress but, she postulated, that part could have been painted out. Almost all were pleasingly plump and rotund with bulges and folds.

As she flipped further and further into the book she toyed with the idea of asking Edward about these pictures. Would that even be a conversation she'd be willing to start or was it be entirely inappropriate? He did want her to speak her mind but perhaps this glimpse into said mind would change his feelings about wanting her for his own. It could be a true test of his intentions. Or it could possibly lead to one of those kisses that had been permanently etched in her mind.

A shiver tiptoed down her spine at the thought, but she rationalized it as a chill from the wet afternoon. Isabella decided to indulge herself with a hot bath.

As the water heated, she took the time to remove her clothing in her newly decorated room. She had been hesitant to carry out Edward's stipulation to make the carriage house her own. She did not want to interfere, feeling that it was not her place to manipulate Jasper's things or even Mary Alice's for that matter. However, as she found herself alone in the home with nothing better to do, she took a critical eye to the decoration. She started by just moving a piece or two for better placement. Then, on closer inspection, removed one or more items that displeased her. It had taken many weeks to arrange things to her liking although the house was now sparsely decorated. She had not even begun to fathom the idea of purchasing anything or venturing into town to shop. That would have to wait until she was closer to completing her initial mourning period. It just wouldn't do to have the Cullen name sullied by gossip on her account.

The one thing that she had no hesitation claiming for her self was a gilt-edged full frame mirror she had found under Jasper's bed, of all places. She had no idea how it came to be there but assumed that it was something to do with Mary Alice. Perhaps it was to be Jasper's wedding gift to her had she not died before they had the chance to wed. It was such a pretty thing that Isabella could not bear to leave it hidden away and it fit so nicely in her newly appointed room.

Her mind wandered to the images of the naked women she had seen in the books and she wondered, daringly, if her own body could compare to those. She knew in her heart of hearts that there would be no comparison. She was not pleasingly plump. From years of work, her body was more firm than that of those women who posed. There was a roundness but it was one of womanhood, not of luxury. She remembered the feel of Edward's firm shoulders under her hands and wondered what his shape would look like unclothed. She all but banished that thought from her mind the moment in entered. She had never seen any part of a nude man save Jasper's calves and feet. They were not pretty. Course hair curled about his legs and sprinkled the tops of his feet. Most disturbing was the small thatch of hair that clung to his biggest toe. The very idea of that thatch of hair touching her made Isabella want to vomit.

She wondered if there was anything equally repulsive about her own body; some sort of hidden oddity or a wart or boil that could turn another's stomach to heaving. She braved her morals and stood in front of the mirror with her wrapper on. Isabella started with her own feet. It seemed the best place to begin as they were the easiest to see. There were no lumps or disgusting hairy patches. Just tightly curled toes and trim nails. They were sturdy without being overly broad. Her ankles were shapely and they matched in size.

Isabella raised her head and began to look at her face in the mirror. It seemed a normal, regular face. All the necessary parts were there, in pairs when warranted or alone. She pulled her hair from its bun and let it fall about her shoulders. It was the same long dark hair she'd always had. The length reached just to the curve of her waist and curled at the ends. Her brow was smooth and unlined with arched dark brows framing her eyes. Her nose was straight and served its purpose. There were no great blemishes on her cheeks. Her lips seemed pleasant enough, a rosy colour but not too dark as to stand out. Her chin was small and her neck wide enough to support her head with out looking spindly. In comparing herself to some of the ladies who's portraits she has studied, she knew she was no great beauty, however she also knew she was not repulsive. She just was and there was nothing wrong with that. She needed no great beauty to live her life and there was no wanting for the lack of it. In her mind, her face was just her face, no more and no less.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she opened her robe and looked for the first time upon her unclothed body in its entirety. She let the robe fall to the floor and looked with a critical eye at herself. Her shoulders were not as sloped as in some of the pictures but she knew that this was due to working for years. She hung her arms straight at her sides for a moment before running her hands over her flesh. She had washed this body every day but never looked at it at the same time. It was fascinating to see what she had touched and look at it in another way. She could just make out the sight and feel of each rib. Her hands dipped into the trim of her waist before smoothing out over slightly flared hips. Some of the pictures she had admired showed women with more flesh upon their hips and thighs. Their legs were creamy expanses of skin that pressed together to be joined at the top by a triangle of hair. Isabella's thighs just barely touched each other and she found the look intriguing. There was a tiny, little gap at the top and a small thicket of coarse hair. She ran her hands further up and along her stomach. Several of the women had a small bulge there, perhaps from bearing children or perhaps from overindulgence. Either way, Isabella had none.

She turned away from the mirror and looked at her backside over her shoulder. To her eye it was just as unremarkable as the rest of her. She failed to understand why the backside of a lady was such a popular choice for artists. She supposed that the curve of hers was comely enough, but knew she would never be so bold as to let someone paint it.

Isabella ended her exploration with her breasts. She had always had a bit of a fascination with them. She remembered when they first appeared on her chest. Tender little bumps that made some of her duties difficult to manage while leaning on her chest. From tender bumps to cumbersome mounds took only the blink of an eye. It seemed as though she awoke one morning with breasts when the night before there had been none. After being thumped by her cousin for the temerity of having them before her, Isabella had been ensconced in the sewing room to make tucks and pleats in a multitude of junior blouses. When the cousin's chest finally grew in, her wardrobe was mended and the thumping never mentioned again.

Isabella carefully held a breast in each hand. The weight of them was pleasant. It was just enough to fill her hand without spilling over grossly. The skin was warm and soft and gave her a small thrill when squeezed slightly. She let go of one and ran her thumb over the nipple of the breast she still held. With a bit of a pinching feeling, the area around the nipple contracted and pebbled. She remembered the time when Jasper put his mouth there and the odd happy feeling it had given her. She took the nipple in between her fingers and pulled at it a bit. It gave her the same feeling as before. She repeated the action on the other breast and found the feeling similar. She took her hands from her breasts and looked at herself for a moment longer.

She was finished with her inventory. There was nothing about her body that would inspire a great artist but she liked it well enough, particularly her breasts. She tied her robe, feeling for all the world like she had a secret to hold in her heart. She bathed and dressed and waited for Edward to visit. She wondered if he would know what she had done by just looking at her. He had such a way of ferreting out her secrets. What would he think of her examining her own body like that? Would he disapprove of her exploration or would he applaud her? She decided it did not matter one whit, there was no earthly way she was ever going to tell him.

 **AN: I honestly did not think that I would be on time with this chapter. But beachcomberlc floated in, in the last second, wearing the most fetching pair of spangled tights and mid-thigh boots to erase all the extra commas and add the better words. I am assuming about the tights so forgive me. I did only give her a few hours to work her magic.**

 **Now that the Meet the Mate contest is over, and if you have a moment or two, go read the wonderful stories that were presented. Some are posted complete and most, I believe, will be expanded into longer stories in due time. A few of the writers might need a little extra encouragement to aid in the decision to augment their stories. There are now 81 tales (Nolebucgrl posted one that she would have entered had she not been judging). There are several that I would love to read as expanded stories; After the Wedding by _archy12_ , Just This Side Of Crazy by _deviantbamboo_ , Chrevre by _2old4fanfic_ , Hello, Nurse by _shalu_ , After Hours by _Edward's Eternal_ , Disguised Intentions by _ForeverRobsessed_ , Tie the Knot by _Payton79_ , Tilted by _purpleC305_ , Honor by _content1_ and Good Karma by _beachcomberlc_. If I haven't mentioned yours please do not feel slighted, I did read your story and I enjoyed it but there are only so many things I can keep in my head at 2:30am.**

 **Okay, deep breath, long AN almost over. I have no idea if the Assiniboine people had a spa day for widows tradition. I made the whole thing up but it sounded nice in my head. Plus I remember swimming in a tea-bog once with my sister and it seemed like a fun thing to have Bella experience. So if by chance someone is reading this from a First Nations group and wishes to correct me, I'd love to hear it. I was tempted to have an Edward finds Bella in the bath scene but that would be plagiarizing from _Mrs. Brownloe's_ Nightingale and that would be a crime. Another crime would be not reading _Mrs. Brownloe's_ Nightingale. Please, go do that now, I'll wait here until you are done.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me, any mistakes included are a result of me playing with after she finished correcting it.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 14

Although Edward had no idea of the brazen activities Isabella had indulged in that afternoon, he did notice that she carried herself slightly differently that evening. The first thing that he noticed was that she was wearing her hair in a different style. Most of the time her hair was pulled back into a severe bun and held tight to the back of her neck. That night she had taken the time to braid her hair into two plaits and twisted those together. Her face was more relaxed and less pinched-looking due to the more loose style of the coiffure.

Isabella's stature was also affected. She stood a mite taller, her shoulders more squared and her hips swayed ever so slightly, leading her skirts to brush against her legs more. She had smiled at him when she opened the door to his arrival. That, in and of itself, was not unusual but there was a different sort of emotion visible behind that smile. Edward could not put his finger on the difference but he was pleased for it all the same. He followed her into the kitchen and sat in his normal spot to watch her fetch the evening meal. He had been well trained not to try to offer his assistance with meal preparation, and Isabella had reluctantly and begrudgingly allowed him to aid in the clean up if he behaved well enough.

Isabella walked into the pantry to gather the last few items needed for dinner and to don her favourite apron. She had taken inspiration from the bog water bath and soaked a new white apron in a week's worth of tea dregs. It turned a lovely ecru and set off the claret colour of her gown quite nicely. She carefully pulled the yoke over her head so as not to catch her braided bun and smoothed the sides with her hands before reaching for the ties. As she drew her hands down the bib, they brushed across her hardened nipples and caused her to gasp. She hadn't noticed that they had contracted; she hadn't touched them since her bath and that was only to wash as usual. Perhaps they reacted to Edward's presence. She looked down to see if they were visible through her shift, dress and apron. Thankfully they were not but Edward had heard her gasp and now stood in the pantry door asking after her well being.

"Oh, I thought I saw a great spider and it surprised me. It's nothing." She excused herself with an arm full of ingredients to cover her chest. When she had seen and heard him there, the constriction of her nipples increased to be almost painful. The reaction surprised her because she had never felt or noticed it before. She wondered if it was going to be a continual thing or if it was just in reaction to that day's exploration. Perhaps some part of her consciousness was reacting to her lewd behaviour and it was attempting to confess her sins to the man who held her life in his control. Or perhaps her revelations of her own joy in her body were announcing their presence for the potential of Edward enjoying her body as well. She shook her head at both thoughts. Perhaps it was just a chill air across her bodice that caused the contraction. It needn't mean anything at all.

Edward chatted amiably as Isabella finished the preparations for dinner. He spoke of local concerns and news he had gleaned from town. He tried to keep her very well informed on what was happening outside of the Inn and the carriage house. Although she would never complain, he knew that the year she had spent confined to the house wore upon her spirits.

Much to Isabella's consternation, Edward mentioned the art books that had been forgotten at the end of the table. In her wool gathering and preoccupation, she had neglected to return them to the other room and out of sight. The blooming blush across her cheeks delighted Edward. She never looked more alive and entrancing as when her face filled with colour. If he weren't afraid of frightening her or offending her, he would strive to keep that colour on her cheeks at all times. He could never hope to have her fall in love with him if he teased her relentlessly.

"Have you decided to give art another try? I can get more pencils if you would like, maybe some watercolours this time?" He dared to wink while questioning her.

"No, I haven't reconsidered and I am still upset that you forced me to try. I was awful at it."

"Nonsense, that last picture was lovely." He said with tongue in cheek. " A patient of mine rendered almost the same drawing. Different colour choices though. Mind you, she is three. And I didn't force, I suggested."

"See, I have the artistic capability of a child. No, art is not for me. I would prefer to stay with hobbies I'm used to."

"But were you able to enjoy the art of others? Were there any old masters that you liked or favourite pictures? Here, show me which ones you were looking at that intrigued you."

"No, thank you, I'd rather not." Isabella stood and made to leave the table.

Edward ignored her and reached for the books. The one with all the naked ladies was on top and Isabella wished that the floor would open up and drop her to the stables below.

"Some of these are my favourites." Edward said as he thumbed through the thick book.

"Especially this one." He laid the book flat and motioned for Isabella to have a look. Against her better judgement she did. The picture was of a young lady standing with her back arched as another older woman poured a large pitcher of water over her hair from a stool behind her. There were other women gathered around a pool of water in various stages of undress. One held a baby to her breast as a very wizened woman watched. The young lady at the forefront of the picture was completely unclothed, her breasts were jutting out from her chest as she held her arms up and over her head to wet her hair. The women looked carefree and relaxed as they went about their bathing.

"And then there is this one." He flipped the pages to show her another. In front of a mirror, a woman sat brushing her hair. There was a swath of fabric draped about her hips and the view was predominately of her back . Her hair flowed over her shoulder to one side and she held the brush aloft. The image in the mirror was distorted but one full breast could be seen.

"My mother posed for an artist once but I really don't think that the portrait is in this book. He wasn't a very well known artist."  
"Really? Your mother? Like this?" Isabella was taken aback.

"No, not like this, she was fully dressed. Lounging on a divan surrounded by pillows and feathers for some reason. My grandfather and grandmother were incensed. It was her one act of rebellion growing up and she married my father just months after to escape from them."

"Really?"

"They were very strict and from very old money, almost gentry, and they kept her very firmly under their thumb until she wed. You know I get my medical prowess from her?"

Isabella sat and stared at him as he wove a long tale of his mother and her quest to become a doctor.

"They said it was unseemly and just not done. She even went as far as to apply to medical school but the school laughed at her and suggested she try nursing. Not that nursing is not an honourable and noble profession, but my mother wanted more. So she fell in love with a young doctor and raised me to marvel at the human body and all it can do.

When I was seven or so, my father was off hunting with his brother and I fell out of a tree. I might have been pushed, I can't recall, but I broke my arm and I remember seeing a part of the bone cutting through the skin before I lost consciousness. I woke up the next day to a splinted arm and a rather pleased looking mother. She had stemmed the bleeding, set the bone, stitched the wound and splinted the arm all on the kitchen counter. My father had returned just after she finished and proclaimed her work to be superior to most of the doctors at the hospital."

"Goodness." Isabella held one hand to her mouth in shock.

Edward removed his suit coat and unbuttoned his sleeve to show Isabella the very faint scar that crossed his right forearm. He reached out and brought her hand to touch the mark.

"See how smooth it is, just barely raised from the skin. It is a testament to how well she did the job. A poorly closed wound would be firmer like there was something left behind under the skin."

Isabella looked down at his arm and tentatively ran her fingers over it. His arm was warm and covered in a soft, downy hair that was a shade darker than the hair on his head. She could just feel the slight line that marred his flesh.

"After that, I decided to become a doctor and my mother was my best teacher and study partner. If she hadn't been born female she would have been a wonderful doctor."

He paused for a second and flipped a few more pages in the art book. As much as he enjoyed the feeling of Isabella's finger stroking his arm he needed the distraction before he pulled her into his lap and kissed her breathless.

"She also taught me to love the human body through the arts; music, dance, literature and other artistic expressions. So much is unknown about the human body and there is so much fear attached, especially to the female body. Some of the things my professors would say in class set my mother to peals of laughter when I would recount my lessons to her. Without being explicit she would debunk every one of their misconceptions. I know it's not a modern notion but I do think women are far superior to men in many ways and it galls me how badly they are treated by society.

Just think of all the things the female body can do that the male cannot. I've seen women inches from death fighting to birth a child and then upon the production of said child, rally her strength to feed and care for the babe. I've seen dancers who could move their bodies so beautifully as to make grown men cry. I've seen a woman so badly beaten by her own husband that her eyes could not open, lead her children across the street safely with all the dignity of royalty. I've seen the frozen corpse of a mother who died, starving, wrapped around her just-living child to shelter and protect by giving the last of her heat. And yet they still call women the weaker sex."

Edward shook his head. His mother's, and also his father's, teachings were firm in his mind.

"For all their strength there is a softness too that is just as important. Warm, soft and sweet smelling. Offering comfort and pleasure for just the right man. Waiting to receive pleasure as well, if he truly is a man. That's one thing my father taught me. To really be a man you must seek to fulfil your woman's needs before your own. And that is something I am very much looking forward to when I wed. To work that hard for such a simple thing and the one I love, that would be the pinnacle of pleasure."  
Isabella gasped both at the turn in the conversation and at the idea that Edward was saving himself for marriage, that he had not known the pleasure of the flesh other than in abstract.

"You mean...you've never...you've not?" She struggled for words to make sense of what he was telling her. First of all, he believed that the act itself begat pleasure; she did not want to burst his bubble on that one but she had never found any pleasure in her bed. And secondly, that in this one case she was more learned than him served also to steal her words.

"I'm not completely innocent and pure, Isabella, I've had a first rate education in many different things but the final act is still unknown to me until I wed. You. Soon, I hope." He answered her with a wink and a smile.

"But, but, I have..."

"No, dear, I really don't think you have. I know what Jasper told me. That was one reason why I hit him, and judging from what I know of my idiot cousin, in my mind, you are just the same as me in this regard. Perhaps, if you were to ask me to kiss you, we could get a preview of events to come. A small glimpse into the future if you will."

Edward just laughed at the gust of air Isabella expelled as the furious red colour returned to her cheeks.

"Maybe tomorrow then?"

He returned to turning the pages in the art book. He paused when he came upon a drawing of a man reclining on a bench. An angel knelt by his head, caressing his hair and his erection stood out from his body very proudly. Edward bit back a chuckle as Isabella looked at the picture and turned from crimson to vermilion.

Isabella, not pausing to think or to filter her words, asked a question that almost set Edward to the floor in peals of laughter.

"What in the world is that thing?"

 **AN: Sorry for the delay. Real life, blah, blah, blah, yadda yadda. Thanks for sticking with me. Please don't kill me for make Edward a virgin.**

 **Beachcomberlc is a treat beyond measure for taking time from her very hectic life to clean this up for me in record time. I owe her a massive debt of gratitude. Or, at least, a home cooked meal.**


	16. Chapter 16

**See not so funny AN at the end of the page.**

 **Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 15

Isabella spent the next week pouring over the various medical tomes Edward brought for her. He answered every single one of her myriad of questions with a calm and patient air. Although the conversation about the male physiology was extremely awkward for both, they survived it. The reproductive conversation was equally as odd for a couple who were not yet even courting, officially that is, but the resulting flow of information left Isabella feeling better about her lack of pregnancy. She let go of the guilt that plagued her regarding Jasper's lack of heir. As well, she began to think of the possibility of children with Edward. If she were to accept him, that is.

She was still torn. Edward treated her with respect. He treated her as his equal. He was patient, kind and giving. He was amusing, frustrating at times, and sweet. She began to wonder what it would take for him to be angry with her and if he did what the consequences would be. Would he be the kind of man to strike his wife in anger? She didn't think he would but one can never really tell unless confronted. If she were to marry him would he maintain the kind and giving nature or would he change into a cold brute like his cousin? The idea was preposterous, him changing personalities like that, but even preposterous ideas can plague the mind in the dead of night.

Now that summer was well underway, there were plenty of social events planned about the town. Open air theatres, musicals and dances posted in the paper and on flyers around the area caught the attention of people for miles. Edward showed Isabella every one of these events and asked if she would attend with him. For a few weeks she held him off but an increasing sadness in his eye made her agree to one or two. She opened her newly fattened purse for the first time to buy a fancy dress from a local seamstress.

The dress she purchased was suitable for a lady still in mourning but was still pretty enough for a girl not yet eighteen. The dress was dark green taffeta with a plum undertone in certain lights. It had velvet embellishments at the neck, waist, hem and three quarter length sleeves. Rather than the wide skirts she was used to, this dress had what the seamstress called a bustle skirt. The majority of the fabric gathered into the back just over Isabella's posterior and flowed, in ripples, down to trail on the ground behind her in a fan shape. She was encouraged to purchase an oddly shaped and padded undergarment to help to maintain the shape of the dress. Much to the disappointment of the seamstress, Isabella declined the purchase of a corset as the dress fit perfectly without it. A jaunty little hat, a pair of black, low-heeled boots and a set of dark green gloves completed the ensemble.

Isabella refused to tell Edward any of the details of her dress. Although he badgered her relentlessly for an entire evening. Shortly after leaving the seamstress' shop she began to have buyer's remorse. The dress was inappropriate: too bold, too dear, and she didn't deserve it. She was a fool for thinking that she could attend a dance with Edward without the entire city laughing at her for her temerity. These thoughts lasted until she placed her packages in the back of Emmett's wagon and she took her seat beside him for the journey back to the Inn.

"Is that all you bought? I can never get Rosalie to leave the dress shop without at least twice that." Emmett threw her a wink and a smile as he started the wagon towards home.

She relaxed a great deal after Emmett's pronouncement. Things could still go drastically wrong but she felt a warmth of friendship from him that eased her fears.

The dress made a soft rustling noise every time Isabella moved, so Edward heard her before he saw her the evening of the dance. He was struck dumb by the sight of her. She stood before him blushing furiously and fiddling with her gloves waiting for him to say something, anything. He walked to her slowly and took one of her hands in his. He bowed and kissed the back of her hand and said just one word.

"Lovely."

It was a beautiful late July night. The evening was still warm from the heat of the day but there was just a breath of air to stir it about. The dance was held out of doors in a large grassy park. It seemed that every lantern in town had been used to light the area. A ladies auxiliary was selling both tickets and refreshments to aid the local orphanage. Isabella was pleased to note that her dress did not seem out of place in the crowd of ladies swirling and dancing around. Although her's was a sombre colour, the cut of the gown was in keeping with most of the others she saw.

After the tickets were purchased Isabella tugged on Edward's arm to garner his attention. She whispered in his ear that she had no experience in dancing. He took her off to the side of the dance area and showed her a simple box step. She flushed when he slid his arm around her waist remembering the last time he held her. His responding grin meant he remembered that kiss as well. He longed to kiss her again but waited patiently for her permission.

Once she could successfully handle the simple movements they joined the others dancers on the floor. The first song had barely finished, its last notes still ringing when a young man came and tapped on Edward's shoulder. Edward looked to Isabella before agreeing to her dancing with another. Three successive gentlemen claimed her time before Edward grew tired of watching her dance without him.

"It seems as though you're the Belle of the ball, Isabella. Perhaps we should start calling you that. What do you think? Belle?" He teased as they sashayed, weaving in and out of the couples around them.

Isabella wrinkled her nose at the idea. No one had ever called her anything but Isabella.

"You don't like that idea, sweetheart? Could we call you Bella perhaps? Yes, I think Bella is just right." He squeezed her waist tickling her gently.

"I suppose. It will take quite a while to get used to, though." She reluctantly agreed.

Their song ended so Edward lead her away to the refreshment table before another could try to take her from him. Drinks in hand they found a bench to sit and watch the dancers. Isabella recognized Emmett and Rosalie among the crowd. She smiled at them as they made their way over.

They chatted amiably for quite a while before Edward was dragged off to dance with several small girls and Emmett found a gentleman willing to discuss business and politics. Rosalie accompanied Bella to return the dirty glasses to the refreshment table and they decided to walk the perimeter of the dance.

As they started around, Rosalie tucked her arm in Isabella and prattled on about fashion, the weather and the canning that needed to be done next month. Isabella listened with rapt attention but had nothing to contribute to the conversation. Not that her input was needed, Rosalie could talk for hours, skipping from one subject to the next in the blink of an eye. All that Isabella need provide was a humming noise and Rosalie was satisfied with their intercourse.

They paraded the dance twice before Rosalie pulled Isabella to a sudden stop. Before them, a few dancers deep, Edward was showing off his skills. There was a small girl of about six years clinging to his shoulders. She was laughing uproariously at the two smaller girls, perhaps four or five years old, who were perched one on each of his feet. Edward was shuffling back and forth, pretending to dance with all three of the little girls. A few more were pulling on his arms and demanding their turn with the good doctor.

"Now, there is a man who needs to have children." Rosalie stated. She tugged at Isabella's arm and they resumed their trek.

"Due to his accident Emmett can't produce children. That was one of the reasons why I married him. I'm not enamoured with children. I could never imagine having a passel of brats running around. Perhaps because I am the eldest in our family and helped to raise my brothers and sisters. I guess I already experienced child rearing prior to marriage and I don 't relish the idea of doing it again. Emmett doesn't really like them either."

Rosalie paused to breathe. Isabella was confused. She had been convinced that every married couple desired children.

"But, as one can plainly see, that Edward, he adores children. Why don't you marry him and put him out of his misery? He clearly loves you, everyone knows it. It wasn't right before. You were not the right person for Jasper and him for you. I don't know what he did to cause you to be so afraid of him. You used to have this air about you, similar to a beaten dog, sure that the next blow was moments away. Not that I think Jasper beat you, I never got the impression that he could be capable of such behaviour. But there was something amiss in your marriage, I could tell. Listen to me, I've already said too much and said it above my station but you seem to need a friend. I'd like to be that friend, if you'd allow it, Isabella"

Isabella came to a sudden stop. She gaped at Rosalie. She was surprised to learn that others had noticed the odd tenor to her marriage to Jasper. She did not want to rehash the past and tell Rosalie everything but she would take the friendship if it was offered. She relayed her feelings on this to Rosalie and Rosalie accepted with a kiss to Bella's cheek.

The pair spotted their menfolk at the refreshment table and slowly made their way over to them. Edward was quite dishevelled from the little girls but happy to have been tortured so. He greeted Isabella by her newly shortened name, much to the delight of Rosalie. She then insisted that she be called Rose by Edward and Bella both for it was her childhood nickname.

The dancing came to a close and the band began to pack up their instruments. The crowd slowly dispersed. Bella held tight to Edward's arm as they made their way back to the carriage house. The night sky was dotted with stars and there was nary a cloud in sight. Edward kept Bella in stitches by naming various stars and constellations with the names of boys he had attended school. By the time they had reached the stairs to the carriage house Edward proclaimed Orion's Belt to be the Bootsy Miller constellation.

"Thank you for accompanying me this evening, Bella." Edward smiled and held onto her hand as she stepped onto the first step bringing her face almost level with his.

"Thank you for asking me, Edward. I had a marvellous night." He raised the hand he was holding and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles very softly and let go of her hand.

Bella watched him carefully but with a new eye in light of her conversation with Rose. Edward did seem to love her. He was kind and gentle with her. He helped her better her education without making her feel an idiot. He listened to her ideas and challenged her opinions. He did everything he said he would and more. A strange feeling low in her stomach started to command her attention as he raised his eyes to look at her. She found herself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to kiss him before he kissed her. To catch him unaware and surprise him. She knew she did not yet have that kind of courage so she did the next best thing.

As Edward turned to go back to the Inn for the night he was shocked to hear Bella ask a question he had longed for.

"Edward, would you kiss me?"

 **AN: Thank you for your patience while I've been absent. I had a major medical issue, frequent appointments and treatments, and a long recovery. I am slowly coming back to myself and hope to have this story finished in the near future. I have no idea when the next chapter will be ready but it will not take three months like this one.**

 **This chapter has not been edited by anyone other than myself so I'm sure it is riddled with mistakes. I just wanted to get it out. During my hiatus I was a complete failure at correspondence via email. I neglected beachcomberlc terribly and am on my knees begging forgiveness. After I post this I will grovel directly to her, so wish me luck.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 16

Edward's entire countenance lit up upon Bella's request.

"You know what that means, don't you? You know what your request means? If you are asking me to kiss you, you know I will not be able to stop, that you are ready to accept me." He asked as he stepped closer. Their eyes were almost level and he hated having to blink for the time it stole from them.

Bella glanced down at his lips and then back to his eyes. She nodded her head and smiled slightly.

Edward beamed before giving her a loud, sharp, smacking kind of kiss: a congratulatory kiss that one might give upon hearing great news. The noise and brevity of the kiss surprised Bella. She had thought that she would receive another one of those knee-weakening, toe-curling, ripe-with-possibilities-that-she-had-no-name-for type of kiss. She felt a little deflated until Edward wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around several times. She could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest. When he finally set her back on the step, she couldn't help but stare at him, breathless and dizzy.

He kissed her again but this time it wasn't a fleeting, silly kiss. This was a kiss full of passion and want. A kiss that declared 'you are mine and no other'. A kiss that warmed the night air with a sultry wind that wrapped around their bodies and trailed fingers gently across their skin. A kiss that dissolved every bone in Bella's body and, if Edward had not been holding her so tightly, would have splashed her to the ground and permeated the earth.

Edward's grip on her body loosened slightly as he brought one hand up to cradle her face. His thumb brushed softly over the apple of her cheek before he slid that hand into the hair at the back of her neck. He tilted her head a smidgen to kiss her deeper with a groan of pleasure slipping past his throat.

Bella's arms worked independently from her brain. In truth, her brain had left her body verily. Only her heart held her to the ground; her heart and Edward's grip. She knew this and relished the feeling. She held tight to his shoulders and just let the feelings wash over her.

The urgency of the kiss increased, and every fiber of Edward's being longed to lay Bella down on the stairs and join his body with hers. But as this realization swept over him, better judgement prevailed and he slowed their kissing to gentle soft pecks on her swollen lips. He knew they had to talk even if he didn't want to end their embrace or their evening together. There was time enough for ravishing her on a staircase and he filed that fantasy away for later.

She stood there, eyes closed, waiting for him to kiss her again when she heard him whisper her name. She didn't want to open her eyes and break the spell he had placed her in. To open her eyes would be to crash back down to earth. She shook her head as he whispered her name again. On his third try she relented. She hadn't seen the look upon his face before, hadn't seen a look like that on any man's face, so she had no name for it. However, that nameless emotion or combination of emotions, made her eyes prickle with unshed tears.

"Say you'll marry me, sweetheart. Put me out of my misery and don't make me court you. I do not wish to wait months to be yours. Just marry me, Bella. Tomorrow, or as soon as possible. I'll be good to you like you've never known."

The remembrance of what she did know of husbands caused her heart to flutter in her chest in a way it hadn't when he kissed and held her. She slammed back to the ground like a stone. A unhappy thoughts flooded her mind.

"What of your family? What will they think of you marrying me, Jasper's widow that they know nothing of? What of your reputation?" All the warm happy feelings of the evening were leaching slowly out of her system.

"I've told Mother and Father everything, absolutely everything. Mother has bags packed and at the ready for when you finally agree to marry me or for when I make too much of a mess of it that you deny me. She is unrelenting in her letters; they are full of you. Concern and worry for you. She wants you as her daughter to the point she's threatened to disown me if I do not secure your hand. Father is a bit more subtle but not by much, less flowery language though."

Bella's breath stuttered in her throat.

"Do you know how common it is to marry one's cousin's widow? No one will bat an eye. If anything, it is your reputation that is at stake. I've heard your name from the lips of many eligible young men in town. If they find out that you're available for marriage they will thunder to your door. How have you not noticed the looks of longing you receive as you shop or walk through the streets?"

Bella playfully swatted his arm for his falsehoods. It was tripe he was trying to sell her and dressing it up as steak.

"Be serious, Edward. I'm concerned and fearful."

"You needn't be, darling. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want you and I don't give a fig who cares or is bothered by it. My family wants you and frankly they don't understand why it is that we're not already married. You could have your choice of many in this town but I'm asking you before any other fool could. Marry me?"

She opened her mouth to answer but he stopped her with another kiss that made every word in her head disappear.

"Marry me and I'll kiss you like this every day."

Again he stopped her from answering with a kiss. She would have grown frustrated with being silenced if it wasn't for the manner in which she was being muted. Each kiss ran shivers of pleasure down her spine.

"Marry me. Save me from ruin, Bella, there is none for me but you. You know that, sweetheart, I know you do."

Kiss.

"Marry me. My Mother wants you to."

Kiss.

With every proposal her spirits lifted. She started to feel something she had never felt before.

"Marry me, Bella. I'll buy you a pony if you do."

Kiss.

Bella felt giddy excitement for the first time in her life and could scarcely contain the laughter that was threatening to erupt from within her. She could feel his body shaking with barely contained laughter as well.

"Marry me, darling."

Bella could not wait for him to finish his latest plea before she pre-empted him with a kiss of her own. Her hands flew from his shoulders to his hair where they gripped the strands tightly, keeping his face to hers. When she let him go he was unable to speak. She took a chance and taunted him for all the teasing he had been doing to her.

"For the love of God, stop asking, you fool. Yes, I'll marry you. If only to stop your whining. Really, it is unseemly, Edward, and pathetic too. One would expect better from a doctor and a gentleman."

Edward was stunned into a silence of his own and failed to notice that Bella started to climb the stairs to the carriage house. He was shocked that she gave back his teasing almost as well as he doled it out. It wasn't until the sound of her key in the door woke him that he then sprinted up the steps as quickly as his long legs would allow him.

Bella spun around to face him, grinning like the fool she proclaimed him to be.

"Yes?"  
"Yes."

"Soon?"

"Very."

They met in the middle, him leaning down and her rising up on her toes to seal their marriage deal with a kiss.

This kiss was soft and gentle. This night had given her kisses of almost every sort imaginable, congratulatory, passionate, silly, yearning, and possessive. This kiss was the best of all. This was a loving kiss. This was a kiss for the ages. A kiss that would last her to the end of her days with the promise of this man at her side for as long as was allowed by nature.

Inevitably, their night did have to come to an end. They both knew that, although it pained them to stop. It took a great deal of mental fortitude for them to release each other.

"Goodnight, my sweet. Tomorrow, early tomorrow, we start the planning, yes?" He murmured against her temple.

She nodded her head, her voice stolen by the enormity of the night.

"You won't run off and forsake me in the morning will you?"

A small laugh forced its way out of her nose at his silly question.

"I won't if you won't." She placed her hand on his cheek. She could feel his heart thumping through his skin and knew that its rhythm matched her own heart's quickening beat.

"All kidding aside, I do love you so, Isabella. So much more than I have words for."

"I think I understand. You have done naught but show me over these last few months. You shall have to teach me to do the same for I do not yet know how to express what it is that I am feeling."

"I shall, my darling."

"Goodnight, Edward."

Wedding planning did start early the next morning indeed. In fact, the rooster had scarcely finished his first crowing when Edward knocked upon Bella's door. Over tea and kisses he showed her the letters he had written to his mother and to his aunt and uncle. Bella hadn't communicated with Jasper's parents since shortly after his death. They'd sent a rather odd condolence note after his drowning but nothing since. She'd sent them a few letters but gave up after a while. She figured that they couldn't be bothered and she tried to leave well enough alone. Edward confirmed that they were an odd sort themselves, and not to concern herself with their actions. The letter he wrote them was perfunctory and stilted but amiable enough for family. Bella breathed a sigh of relief when Edward told her she should never have to meet them for they would never travel, preferring to stay in their seaside home in New Brunswick.

The letter to his mother, however, was rife with ink blotches and sloppy handwriting as if Edward could not get the words out fast enough. Bella laughed as she found more parchment and a fresh pen for him to write the letter again, this time like an adult and not like a schoolboy just learning his letters. Edward mucked up that copy as well, and decided to send notice through the new telegraph office as soon as it opened for the day instead. He could then relax and send a proper letter later with more detail. As an added bonus, his mother could start her travel plans that much sooner. Therefore, they could be wed on an earlier date. Edward finally calmed and enjoyed his breakfast with Bella just shaking her head at his fervour. She hid her worries and fears from him by revelling in his joy.

After he had, reluctantly, gone to work for the day, Bella walked over to the Inn to have a word with Rosalie. Rosalie had several words for Bella, having already been told the good news by Edward as he ran past her that morning.

 _Yes_ , Rosalie would help with the wedding, the food, and the dress.

 _Yes_ , Rosalie would stand with Bella as she married Edward.

 _Yes_ , Bella had every right to marry him and of course she deserved him.

 _Yes_ , everyone would be happy for them.

Bella was soothed by every _yes_ Rosalie gave her. She was calmed even further by the fierce hug Rose folded her into. That and the rum Rosalie had slipped into her tea.

Edward finished work and ran back to the telegraph office by chance there was a response from his parents. He clutched the folded note tightly in his hand and ran to the Inn as fast as he could. Winded, he handed over the note addressed to Bella and slumped into a chair to recover. She opened the telegraph and read the single word missive from Edward's family.

 _Daughter_ was all that was written.

 **AN: This took a little longer than I thought. I got caught up in Street-meat Meet. With that one done I can refocus. I loved writing it though.**

 **Beachomberlc and I have been working on Cold for almost a year now. Can you believe that? From initial conception to contest entry to full story. With only a few chapters left the end is nigh. I'm stunned that you have put up with me for that long. Honoured but stunned.**

 **2016 is the anniversary of women's suffrage in Canada and to date there is only one country left in the world that does not allow women to vote, Vatican City. I'm not holding my breath for that one.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 17

Nothing and no one could calm Bella as the wedding date approached. With the date came the arrival of Edward's parents and the fear that they would hate her on sight. She envisioned them arrived at the train station, disembarking the train and upon seeing her with Edward there to greet them, dragging him off and forcing his return to Nova Scotia. She would be found too young, too plain, too uneducated, too slovenly and too short to be with their Edward. And he, looking through their eyes at her for the first time, would agree and leave her forever.

Therefore, she cleaned. She cleaned every surface in the carriage house. She washed every stitch of clothing. She scrubbed her own skin with vehemence strong enough to remove many layers. When Edward came for dinner she was hard pressed not to run him a bath and scrub him as well.

To compound her need to cleanse and general desperation, there was a drought. Once fertile soil became loose dirt, it billowed into to the air searching for moisture. It was hot, so very hot, and dry. Water was to be used sparingly, advised by the authorities. The river that had claimed Jasper and overshot its banks in the spring was now a sludgy trickle. It was hard to believe that the river was once deadly in the heat of August. Occasionally there would be a tease of a sprinkling of rain, quite often as the sun shone in the sky. It was just enough to tantalize but not enough to quench.

One week before the elder Cullens' scheduled arrival, tempers came to a head and they had their first argument. It wasn't a real fight but a manufactured tiff. Fabricated and instigated by Edward to force Bella to relieve her stress. It did not relieve the tension in a way that Edward had anticipated.

They had set a date for early September, contingent upon his parent's safe and timely arrival. There was a fair on the first weekend of September so they planned their wedding for the second weekend. Edward had been badgering Bella to enter some of her handicrafts in the fair. He was certain that she would win first prize. Bella was certain that there was no way she could win and feared that she would be ridiculed for even trying.

The fight started the day Bella discovered that the counterpane she had just completed was missing. She had wanted to launder it and see if it would complement the room she was preparing for Edward's parents to occupy. She spent the better part of an afternoon searching for it and was almost ready to tear her hair out when Edward arrived for dinner that night. His sheepish expression angered her and when he confessed to not only submitting the blanket to the fair but several jars of preserves as well, she all but screamed in frustration.

She wanted to go to her room, fling herself on the bed, and have a good cry. However, there was dinner to be made and other chores that needed attending. She fixed Edward with a withering look and tromped back into the kitchen. He would not let the matter drop. He hounded her and hounded her for an explanation as to why she was so angry. None of her explanations satisfied his curiosity. With her attention divided between what she had to do and trying to defend her emotions, the knife she was using slipped and she sliced the end of her finger.

It wasn't a bad cut, just a trickle of blood but deep enough to sting. Bella cursed, in her mind not out loud, and dropped the knife.

Outside there was a huge clap of thunder. Edward rushed to her side and began counting in his head. Several of his patients that day had told him that there might be a thunderstorm that night and to be sure to watch out for it. A thunderstorm on the prairies was a wonder to behold. With the heat they'd been experiencing lately a storm would be welcomed, as long as it did not turn to hail.

Bella was fed up; she was tired and cranky, overworked and distraught. Edward started fussing over her and that tiny little cut on her finger like she had just lopped off her hand. He ruined her plans for his parents stay and disregarded her wishes about the fair. She'd had enough. She swatted his hands away from her and ran from the kitchen out the back door.

Bella just reached the bottom of the stairs when the skies opened and rain came pouring down.. Her hair and dress were soaked within moments as if she had been dunked in a bath. She walked a few steps away from the building.

The air around her crackled. The rain felt warm on her skin and she lifted her face to catch more of it. It felt glorious. The tension was lifted from her. It was as if she could feel the earth soaking up the water and being soothed by the rain. She raised her arms up and twirled around in a circle like she was dancing.

There was another loud crack of thunder and while she paused at the sound, she did not let it stop her from enjoying the rain. To her own ears her laughter was almost as loud as the thunder. She kept her eyes closed but saw a flash of lightning through her lids. She hoped that the storm was moving away from them and not towards them so that she could have time enough to enjoy her frivolity. She hoped that Edward would leave her alone for just a few more minutes.

Her hopes were dashed when she felt his arms reach around her. He lifted her off the ground but kept her in the slow spin she had started. For a moment or two she enjoyed his embrace until she remembered all the reasons she had left the house in the first place. She pushed on his shoulders until he released her. She said not a word but just looked at him. For as annoying as he had been the last few days, she still loved him beyond reason. However, if he kept at her, she had a mind to salt his tea or some other small payback.

"As lovely as this is, perhaps we should go back inside before either of us catches a cold or gets struck by lightning." Edward said with a tinge of paternalism in his voice.

"No," was all she said. She stepped to the side and raised her face to the rain again.

"No? To which part no?"

"No, I'll come in when I'm ready."

"Are you sure? It can be dangerous to be outside in a thunderstorm." She leveled him with a glare.

"Edward, I have lived here much longer than you have. I have been taught about the perils of lightning. Please, just let me be."

"You're certain? I can stay."

"Damn it Edward. Just listen to me. All week you've been picking at me, disregarding my wishes and not hearing me. Then today, to completely disregard my wishes you forge ahead with your ridiculous plans for the fair. I needed that counterpane for your parent's bed. I searched and searched for it. I told you how I felt and you ignored me. I don't want scrutiny or judgment. I want your parents to approve of me as your wife. I need them to see me as capable. I need you to treat to me as an adult who knows her own mind. I'm not a child, Edward." She yelled. Her hands flew to cover her mouth when she realised what she had done.

"Well, thank God," Edward proclaimed with a laugh, "I was starting to annoy myself too. I wondered how long it would take you."

He grabbed ahold of her again, this time a bit tighter.

"You...you…" she spluttered.

"Edward, my name is Edward. I'm not a female sheep." He could barely contain his laughter.

Bella broke away from his hold and stomped off away from the carriage house. Her intent was to go to the Inn and seek out Emmett. Emmett could render some serious harm to Edward if she asked him to. Or Rose might.

Edward caught up with her after she had taken only a few steps. He jumped in front of her to stop her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're just so lovely when you're angry, or happy, or sad, or anxious even. I knew you were getting yourself in a tizzy about everything and I wanted you to blow off steam. I thought maybe if I pushed and badgered you enough you'd vent and then be able to relax and enjoy our engagement period. You've wound yourself up to the breaking point, Bella."

"All week long you've been at me, picking and prodding. You've driven me to distraction, causing me me to yell at you and curse aloud for the first time in my life. And now you say it was on purpose? That you deliberately tortured me with malicious intentions? How does that bode for our married life, Edward? How can I trust you now? And what's worse is that you are amused by your actions and entertained by my ire. Is this all just sport to you, Edward?"

Edward was struck silent. He hadn't thought of any of this. He didn't think that his little games would hurt her at all. He thought that she would feel so relieved that she would be calm and compliant by the time his parents arrived, that she would become the epitome of female grace and gentility once again. He now had a very large hole to dig himself out of and he had forgotten to bring a shovel.

Bella turned and began to walk back to the carriage house, slowly this time as she was enjoying the rainfall on her skin again. She was relieved of the tension she had been feeling. However, there was no possible way she was going to inform Edward that his tricks had worked. To give him such fodder meant a lifetime of his ego whenever she became angry. He would do it again and again ad nauseum. It was best to nip this behaviour in the bud as soon as possible. She had a much better idea for a stress reliever in mind and wondered if she had the emotional strength to pull it off. It would require bravery from her that she did not think she possessed yet.

Edward trailed behind like a chastised puppy. He wasn't certain if he should follow her or if he should leave her to her own devices. However, he was now drenched and nervous. A towel with which to dry his face and the opportunity to further apologise would do wonders for his nerves. Perhaps he could get a kiss or two as well.

Bella walked straight into the kitchen and placed one of the clothes drying racks in front of the stove. Edward watched from the doorway as she first removed her sodden apron and then her shoes. Her thin stockings were to follow and Edward could only stare as she reached under her dress discreetly untying them blindly. Bella ignored him. With her back to him she began unbuttoning her blouse. He made no sound as she opened each sleeve at the wrist. The dark green garment had turned almost black in the rain. He watched as she maneuvered the length of the placket to her waist. He drew in a sharp breath as her hands reached around to undo the fastening on her skirt. The skirt fell to the floor with a wet, squelchy thud. Her petticoat was wet at the waist and hem but dry in patches throughout the circumference. That too hit the floor when untied. When her hands reached for the remaining buttons on her blouse he could take no more. He found himself pressed up against her with his hands covering hers.

"What are you doing, Bella?" Edward did not recognise his own voice. The pitch was lower and it had taken on a more husky tenor.

"Getting out of these wet things. You should as well, Edward, before you catch cold." There was a hint of humour in her voice.

"Somehow I don't think that's possible right now. Do you wish me dead, Bella? Is that why you're doing this?" He felt lightheaded and dizzy.

"Of course not, Edward. I didn't ask you to follow me and I didn't ask you to watch me undress."  
"I'm sorry, darling, but I just had to make sure you forgave me for teasing you. I couldn't bear it if you were angry with me. I only meant to perturb you, not really anger you. I meant to give you an outlet for your frustrations and worries." Edward was beginning to fear that this might be the only time he would see her in her near altogether.

"I understand that Edward." Her hands slid out from under his and worked the last three buttons. She stepped forward and let the blouse drop to the floor. She was left standing there in her chemise and drawers, neither of them touched by the rain.

Edward found his mouth dry and there was an incessant need to swallow. He struggled to keep his eyes on her face. He managed to for a moment but lost the fight entirely. In his life, notwithstanding his professional experience, he had seen a few near-naked females. Some were in risqué picture books and a couple he had undressed himself. The sight of Bella in only her underpinnings surpassed every single one of them.

Bella cleared her throat.

"You tease your way, I'll tease mine. Goodnight Edward, sleep well." She stepped up to him and kissed his cheek gently.

He was dumbfounded enough to almost let her leave the room without his notice. He grabbed her as she brushed past him and held tight to her waist.

"I believe I prefer your kind of teasing, sweetheart."

"Perhaps next time I worry you with frustrations, you could soothe them in a nicer manner. A kiss goes quite far to comfort me, I'll have you know."

"I fear that a kiss now will only lead to my frustration." His fingers began fondling the lace on the edge of the shoulder strap of her chemise, taunted by the ribbon tied in a neat bow that kept the article closed. He looked away from his hand to her eyes.

"Ah, but I'm not teasing to frustrate, Edward." She rose up on her toes and kissed him, hard. Her hands held firmly to his waist as his lace fondling halted. Very slowly and deliberately he inched his hand down the shoulder strap to her breast. The both found their breath stuttered when his thumb brushed over her nipple, leaving it hard and tingling. He cupped the mass of her breast, delighting in the way it filled his palm. She too decided to explore a little. Perhaps if his stroking of her nipple elicited such lovely reactions, his would as well. She was very correct in her hypothesis and quickly had both hands on his chest. With a deep shuddering groan he used his free hand to pull her closer. He held her tight to him as he bent one knee and started to lay her on the floor in front of the stove. He caught their descent with the hand that now missed the warm, soft breast it had been holding but remained on his knees.

When she was supine, he broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. He saw nothing there but invitation. He slid his legs down along her body until he was lying partially covering her with his hip resting still on the floor.

Bella brought her hands up to his face and drew him to her again. She ran her finger through his hair and giggled as drops of water from the thunderstorm fell down around her. He chuckled with her when he realised why she was laughing all of a sudden. He kissed away some of the raindrops from her face as they fell but found he could not keep up with them. He tried to shake his head like a dog to get rid of the majority of them but that just led to gales of laughter from Bella. Unfortunately, the amorous mood was broken but they stayed on the floor for a long while, kissing and holding each other until the hour became too late and comfort demanded that they rise.

 **AN: Sorry for the delay. Thank you for reading.** **Many, many thank you's to beachcomberlc for helping my words make sense to intelligent readers, in record speed as well. If it had been left up to me you would have waited another week before this was ready. I hope that the next chapter will not be as tardy as this one. I'll try my best to emulate beachcomberlc's tempo.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Very, very, very important Author's note at the end of the chapter. Please read.**

 **Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 18

Edward stared at the carriage house, willing a candle to be lit or smoke from the fire to signal Bella's activity. His room at the Inn was directly across from where she lived and he spent many a wakeful night hoping for a glimpse of her through the curtains. Not an illicit glimpse, although he wouldn't look away from that vision if he were graced with it. Rather, any sight of her, shrouded by lace curtains was welcomed.

When he returned to the Inn the night before, titillated and aroused by a truly fabulous goodnight kiss, he found a note under his door. The builders had finished his home. Their home. And if he had all his hopes and dreams fulfilled, their children's home as well.

It was a large, two storey, whitewashed home with a generous front porch, a second floor summer room, four bedrooms plus a nursery. He had spared no expense and was eager to show it off to Bella. If she would only give a sign that she was awake.

His parents were to arrive on the late afternoon train. They had sent a message ahead to confirm their arrival. He'd had a hard-won argument with Bella and arranged supper for all of them at the Inn to spare her the stress of meal preparation. Bella felt that having supper out would be both an unnecessary expense and a signal to his parents that she was unfit to be his bride. He damned near bit his cheek holding his laughter in at her ludicrous assumptions. He had been extolling her virtues to his parents for much longer than she would have expected.

Finally the stupid rooster began his crowing as streaks of pale light danced across the sky. Edward rose from the window seat and rushed to the washstand. He had no time to wait for warm water so settled for washing in last night's cold water. His sponge bath was brief and his shaving hurried, as one could attest by the three small cuts to his jaw. He hoped he had given her enough time to be properly dressed before storming into her home but he could not wait much longer.

He employed a heavier step than his usual to signal his intended arrival. His knock was loud on the door. If she hadn't been awake before then surely his thunderous approach would have rousted her. Her voice bade him enter and he walked through the carriage house to find her in the kitchen. She was standing at the stove stirring something in a heavy looking pot. Much to his delight and consternation, she wasn't dressed to receive visitors. She was still in her nightclothes with a thin wrapper about her body. Her hair was not in it's usual confinement but ran loose across her right shoulder, leaving a tantalizing view of the soft skin of her slender neck. He longed to stride over to her and devour her starting with her earlobe and, oh-so-slowly work his way down her body. So lost in fantasy he was, he did not notice her peer over her shoulder at him nor did he see her coy smile. Bella finished dissolving the sugar into the rhubarb and turned to face her intended. His shirt was misbuttoned and his tie crooked but he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen, famous artwork included.

Edward groaned when she faced him and he saw the culmination of all her loose hair resting on her shoulder and cascading down her chest. Gentle curls tumbled to her waist. He longed to bury his face in her hair or to run his fingers through it or to feel the ends trail across his bare chest. A full body shiver brought him to his senses and he did all he could to calm his thoughts, including a mathematical calculation of the number of hours until he could turn fantasy into reality. One hundred and five was a torturous and huge number but he vowed to endure it.

"This is a happy sight." He attempted to change his amorous mood into one of levity. "Is this what awaits me every day for the rest of my life as next week?"

"Alas, no. I have a heavy flannel gown that ties at the neck and sweeps the floor. It is as shapeless as a potato sack. I've been saving it for after we wed." She kept her place in front of the stove as he sidled up to her.

"Do you really?" The thin white cotton taunted him. It was just a titch too opaque for his liking.

"Of course. It is the epitome of married fashions. I have a home knit pair of long drawers for you as well. Mustard coloured too, and I just have to finish sewing on the buttons for the trap door."

"You are highly amusing this morning."

"I'm not kidding. Rosalie gave me the wool. She said it was only proper." She could not finish her teasing for laughing.

He slid his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. He then walked to his chair and sat, placing her on his lap.

"Do you plan on torturing me often?" He laughed with her as she ducked her head to lay it against his heart.

"I find it highly amusing, Edward. Your words, not mine."

"Did you sleep well, darling?" He placed a light kiss on the crown of her head.

"Quite."

"Not still afraid of my mother's arrival?"

"No, of course not, Edward. This week it is your father I fear. For no justified reason, I know, but it seems I need something to worry about." She lifted her head to look at him.

"They'll love you. What are you cooking? It smells lovely."

"I got the urge at dawn to make stewed rhubarb and there is a huge patch of it at the end of the garden. I snuck out at first light and picked an armful or two." She twisted in his lap to check the pot on the stove, to see if it was still steaming and not boiling over.

"Strange I didn't see you." He said with an impish grin. "Did you go out wearing this?"

"I went quickly thinking that no one would see." Bella said while nodding and blushing.

"Pity I missed it."

"Were you watching my window again? It is an odd behaviour."

"Yes I was, and I'm proud to be found out too. I received news last night and couldn't wait to share it with you. The house is finished. Care for a tour before we head to the train station?"

Bella jumped out of his lap and ran to the stove. She moved the heavy pot to the side where the heat was lower.

"Give me just a few minutes to dress. Tea is in the pot." She shouted as she ran from the room.

Edward smiled to himself and set about making a bit of breakfast.

True to her word, Bella was dressed and ready in a matter of minutes. Her hair had been corralled into it's usual bun at the nape of her neck. A pale coloured bonnet shaded her face from the morning light. She held tightly to his arm as they walked to their new home.

The roadway was wide, the house lots were generous and the homes were stately. A fair distance from the main road the couple came to a stop in front of a large white house with dark brown trim. There were several men outside planting, painting or just standing about. Edward led Bella over to one of the men standing nearest the house.

The man greeted Edward warmly, shook Bella's hand and introduced some of his crew. He then handed Edward a set of cast iron keys and followed them to the front door. The front porch extended from the door to one side of the house. To the other side of the door was a set of bay windows. The porch was covered with a steep roof that was held up by thick pillars. There was room ample enough for a set of chairs to while away an afternoon or watch an evening thunderstorm. The foyer looked welcoming with a dark wooden staircase to one side.

"Shall I carry you over the threshold?"

"No, not yet. I am not yet your bride, Edward. As well, this is a chaperoned visit, perhaps if the house doesn't please me I could find another groom on-site."

The housebuilder stifled a laugh and held out his hand to help the lady over the lintel. He was a rather short and portly man with a belly that resembled a wobbly pudding. He was wondering just how serious the young lady was and cataloguing his work crew for any unmarried gents. Edward clapped his hand on the man's shoulder and whispered conspiratorially in his ear.

"Serves me right for teaching her to tease me. She was as quiet and as shy as a churchmouse when I first met her. Now, she leads me through the nose like a prized bull."

The man nodded at him. He had been married for years and understood the sentiment.

The first room they looked in was to be Edward's office. It was just to the right of the door. To the left was the main parlour with a large fireplace, the bay window and a sliding pocket door. Further down the hallway, under a landing for the staircase, were two doors standing opposite each other. One was a generous closet, the other led to more stairs, this time down to the cellar. As the cellar was of no interest to either of them for the time being, they continued to the heart of the house.

The kitchen took up the rear quarter of the house. There was a swinging door to the formal dining room and a windowed door to a utility room that led outdoors. The kitchen was very bright as there were several large windows, one of which had a desk built under it with a comfortable looking chair tucked into it. A hand pump for running water stood beside a tough sink and a very, very large stove dominated the room. While the hand pump alone was reason enough for delight, the length and breadth of the workspace was reason for outright glee.

Edward came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her ear while she looked around the room in which she would spend most of her time.

"I had Rosalie come in to advise. There is an icebox in the cellar and a cold storage room as well. There is a separate area for dry goods as well as shelving for tools that you use seasonally, like your canning equipment. I asked for new fashioned implement or gadget to be installed. I believe that this is now the most modern kitchen in all of Winnipeg if not Manitoba." He let her go and walked around so that he could look her in the eye.

"It's lovely. Thank you Edward." Her cheeks ached from smiling.

"I wanted you to have every tool at your disposal to make your work easier. I know I'd have lost the hired help argument if we were to ever have it so I made do with the next best thing. Also, it's already finished and paid for so you can't complain about the excess."

He halted any quip she may have made by giving her a swift kiss.

"So, do you love the house? Will you spend the rest of your days here with me?" He asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Not until I have seen the upstairs. What if my bedroom is not to my liking or if yours has a better view? I may not want to marry you then."

"Ah, but darling, we have a master bedroom for us to share." He winked at her.

"Oh but darling, we'll need a second room for your exile if you anger me too much." She tried to wink back but found herself laughing too hard to complete the action.

He led her by the hand to the stairs. He followed behind as she walked up. She paused at the landing to look over the balustrade to the front door. She then turned to see a tall bookshelf built around the window at the landing. A much smaller set of stairs led to a larger landing that led to the bedrooms. She gave a cursory glance to three bedrooms of similar size and layout. Edward forged ahead and waited for her in the master bedroom. It too had a bay window with a padded seat. There were doors on each of the three remaining walls. One led to a closet that was of little interest. The second led to a much smaller room which was to be used as a nursery. The third door led to a summer room. It was open to the elements save for yards of mesh fine enough to see through. It was not a large room but there was enough space for a bed or mattress, perhaps two, to be placed on the floor. There was a large storage cupboard behind the door where the glass windows and wooden shutters were housed. Edward explained everything when Bella wondered about the practicality of such a room in winter as open as it was. He showed her that each section of window could be replaced as the weather warranted. He extolled the virtues of sleeping out of doors in the heat of summer. He was rather excited about the prospect and hoped that she would join him. Bella decided to reserve judgement about the room just yet.

The noon hour whistle blew and Edward checked his watch against it.

"We've just an hour before the train arrives. Time enough to see the rest of the property and the outbuildings if you'd like."

Bella nodded and followed as Edward and the housebuilder walked through the house to the backyard. Her mind was full of ideas of new furniture and fabrics. She had no interest in the small barn that housed yard equipment. She barely noticed the two horse stalls or the buggy space. The loft area above the barn did pique her interest but only in comparison with the carriage house she lived in now. It was a third of the size but there was room enough for a single person to live. Room enough for a bedroom and a kitchen and sitting room combination. It would be a good space for a long term guest or an employee if they acquired one.

Bella was lost in thought once again while the builder showed off the outhouse and garden. Both were big enough to accommodate a large family. There was a paddock and a grove of trees. The beginnings of a chicken coop brought the property tour to an end. Edward shook hands with the builder and thanked him for the exemplary work he had done on the house.

They had to walk at a brisk pace but they arrived at the train station in just enough time to see Edward's father help his mother down the step.

Edward rushed over to help and to greet them kissing his mother's cheek and shaking his father's hand before leading them over to where Bella waited nervously.

"Bella, this is my father, Carlisle Cullen and my mother Esme. Mother, Father, this is my bride-to-be, Isabella." Edward all but burst with pride at the introduction of his most favourite people.

"It is lovely to meet you." Carlisle said as he tilted his hat to her. He knew enough of his own wife to keep the greeting short and sweet.

Bella could not find her voice so she bobbed a shaky curtsey.

Esme eyed the girl for a moment before gathering her in her arms. Bella melted into her embrace and felt at home. Carlisle and Edward stood there, waiting and rocking on their heels until the women were finished.

 **AN: If by chance you are enjoying this story then I would ask you, very kindly, to go to the Fanatic Fanfic Awards page and vote for beachcomberlc as best beta reader. This story, as well as all of my other stories would not be readable without her. To prove my point, this chapter has not been seen by her. I guaranty you will see a difference. I'm lost without her corrections and encouragement. Voting ends May 2, 2016. After that I'll post the corrected version of this chapter because I know it makes her twitchy to see all my mistakes and not be able to fix them. If that is not incentive enough, then please know she does work with many other writers in this fandom but she's only nominated for my story The Practical Patient.**

 **Thank you for reading.**

 **PS: All errors have been corrected as of April 21, 2016.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me; quickly and without the need for alcohol. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it afterwards.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 19

"Carlisle, Edward, see to the luggage and crates. My daughter and I are going for a walk to collect ourselves. We'll meet you at the carriage in a few minutes." Esme Cullen's voice took on a rarely used imperious tone. It was a tone reserved for dealing with difficult people, such as her sister or her parents. It wasn't a tone she had ever used with her child or husband before, however they had heard it used on others. The three of them were equally surprised by hearing it in this situation. The men, because they didn't think that they had done anything to warrant it and Esme because it just came out of her mouth, unbidden.

The Cullen men were quick to heed her request and glad to leave, in case her tone was a precursor to anger. Esme Cullen was very evenly tempered and slow to outright anger, however, when she was really riled, her tongue was sharp enough to carve a strip off a rhinoceros.

Esme steered Bella to the ladies waiting room. Once seated, she drew a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes. Bella waited and wondered what had made Mrs. Cullen so upset that she grew teary.

"I am sorry, Isabella. I'm rather overcome with emotion at this moment. First to see my boy again after so long, secondly to get to meet you, finally. Add that to the shame I feel about my nephew's treatment of you, his death and the gruelling nature of travel itself. Why, you must think me daft. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Oh, it is so good to see you."

She hugged a surprised Bella tightly and laughed.

Bella patted Esme on the shoulder in sympathy. She understood the sensation of a flood of emotion that Esme was experiencing. Esme released Bella from her grip, then tidied her face, blew her nose and smiled.

"I feel much better now," Esme said as she stood, stowing the handkerchief for another use, "Let's find the boys and see if they have done their jobs. You might think I'm planning to move in with you when just how much I brought." She linked arms with a slightly stunned Bella and the pair walked out of the station.

There, parked in front of the station, were two different carriages. One was a standard four-seat Berline, a for-hire vehicle. The other was the buckboard the Inn used for hauling luggage and supplies. The buckboard was being piled high with wooden crates and several traveller's trunks. Edward was standing beside his father watching the men load what looked to be half his mother's house into the wagon. Carlisle was laughing quietly at the look of dismay on his son's face. He had jokingly called the hoard Edward's trousseau. Two much smaller trunks were stashed on the back of the Berline. Esme stood by the open door of the carriage and waited for her husband to give her a hand in. Carlisle was quick to be of service to both ladies before calling for Edward to join them. The buckboard was sent to the new house while the hired carriage brought the group to the Inn and carriage house.

Esme marvelled over Bella's gardening skills first, before accepting a tour of the carriage house. She complimented Bella on her cleaning skills, wondered at her sewing prowess, and praised her canning. Bella was not accustomed to such adulatory and rhapsodic speech. Her face was awash with colour and she wondered if the journey had not skewed Esme's perception. Had Esme been too long away from home to find such perfection in Bella's housekeeping skills? In truth, although Esme was greatly pleased that Bella had exemplary domestic skills and that she would be able to care for Edward in the proper manner, the fact that Bella existed at all was enough to find perfection in her. Esme had spent many a sleepless night worrying that her boy would never marry, settle, or produce children. She had despaired that her boy would forever keep to himself and not know the love of a good woman. Or know the love of many not-quite-so-good women.

However, Bella was that good woman, and she deserved to be fêted for it. She deserved to be lauded far and wide, and Esme planned to make Bella feel well-loved. Esme's mother-in-law was a leathery bitch who ruled her men. They loved her for it and saw no wrong in anything she did. But, she was hell to the women who loved her sons.

Esme vowed that she would be kind and supportive to whomever married her Edward, as long as they earned it. If Edward had chosen a battleaxe, like his grandmother, or a shrinking violet like her own mother, then she would be genial but not too effusive. Bella had earned Esme's respect, and not just by accepting Edward's hand in marriage. Esme had read the letters Bella had written to Jasper's parents while Esme was visiting them. Edward had been writing to her about Bella for months, almost as soon as he had arrived in the west. She had spoken to Bella's aunt and had learned what kind of child Bella had been. She was both saddened and pleased to learn of the strife Bella had survived in childhood. Saddened as was natural, for her heart went out to young girl who was punished for no good reason. Pleased, as cruel as it sounds, for it showed her to be a strong person and the kind of person who would make an excellent partner for Edward.

Edward had not known troubles in his childhood but had compassion for those who did. He would worship her as she should be worshipped. She, in turn, could adore him in a tempered way, not blindly but with her eyes wide open. He could lead and teach, nurture and revere to his heart's content. Bella could do the same for him in her own way.

Esme had loved her nephew Jasper, but she knew, in her heart of hearts that he was not as compassionate or sympathetic as Edward. Jasper's affections couldn't expand past his first love. She had seen it in his childhood as the boys were growing. Jasper was quick to be in charge of all play, imperious and demanding at times, long to hold a grudge and slow to apologize or accept an apology.

Over tea and cakes the wedding plans were discussed. It was to be a very simple affair, Bride, groom, his parents, Emmett and Rosalie, the workers at the Inn and a few patients and friends from town. There was a lovely breakfast planned and catered by the ladies at the Inn. Emmett and the clerks were decorating a large room under strict supervision of Rose. The bride had a plain but lovely dress and the groom had a dark suit. All the preparations were in place and all the tasks assigned.

Dinner at the Inn that night was full of laughter and joy. Bella, although still miffed that Edward refused to allow her to prepare the meal, fell fast in love with Esme. Her opinion of Mr. Cullen was reserved, as the man kept quiet and let his wife control the evening. Bella hoped that his behaviour was due to years of catering to his wife and not due to a dislike of Bella as his soon to be daughter-in-law. She found herself slightly afraid of the man although he did nothing to warrant that fear other than be a man, an authority figure, and a father figure. She had had such little luck with such men that the fear of them was second nature to her.

Carlisle knew she was afeard of him and he resolved to bide his time. He would wait until she was more comfortable with him before he approached her. He applied the same method with domestic animals and young children. There would be time enough to become friends and time yet to become family, he had no doubt. So, he laughed quietly and spoke softly, occasionally catching her eye but never cornering her. He would teach her in his own manner that there are good, kind, and gentle men who do not wish her harm in this world. Then he would love her as a father should, with his whole heart.

Emmett and Rosalie joined them for coffee and dessert. They raised the pitch of the gathering to a boisterous level. Rosalie was all talk about moving into the carriage house and making it her own. They currently lived in adjoining rooms at the Inn and relished the idea of spreading out and having much more space. Emmett had been promoted to General Operating Manager, answering only to Edward and Bella, who gave him free rein. They were to have the carriage house as theirs as a reward for hard work. Rosalie would still work occasionally at the Inn whenever there were special events, but she would take a step back from Housekeeping to concentrate more on the financial management of the Inn. Rosalie had a keen mathematical mind, much more than Jasper, Edward and Emmett combined.

It was very late into the night when the group disbanded for sleep. Edward made his goodbyes glumly, but with a slight thrill at the thought that there weren't too many nights left that he would have to sleep apart from Bella.

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, the small family ventured to the construction site. Esme's crates were piled in the dining room. Esme had the men move half the hoard into the kitchen while she and Bella opened the others. While they were elbow deep in packing straw, Esme explained that the kitchen crates were a china service for ten that came from Carlisle's family. It wasn't necessarily fancy or good china but sturdy, serviceable everyday ware suitable for a new family. There were also very good Irish linens in a myriad of colours to match whatever decor Bella chose for her workspace.

The crates they unpacked in the dining room were fine bone china in a beautiful and delicate Oriental pattern of cranes, flowers, and fans. It was a special set of fancy china that Esme had bought just for Bella, with enough dishes to serve twelve in a very formal manner. There were platters, serving bowls, and tureens all in the same pattern. There was also a silver tea service and cutlery for every occasion. Bella's eyes welled up in tears when Esme explained that as the only child of an only child, she had inherited her family's entire estate and that there was no one better to have the silver.

Esme waited until Bella composed herself before whispering conspiratorially to her.

"It's a bugger to polish the whole collection so make Edward do it when he misbehaves. Or the children. What is the point of having children if you can't get free labour out of them? I used to make Edward shine my shoes, too. He could have made a career of it if he hadn't taken to medicine."

Bella snorted with laughter which brought the men back into the dining room. Edward looked over the stash of silver and smiled at his mother, ruefully.

"I'm not polishing that. I'll hire someone, if I have to." He crossed his arms, defiantly and waited for his bride and mother to stop laughing at him.

The rest of the day was spent at the fair. Carlisle and Edward both lost spectacularly at the games of chance. They all ate well by sampling the various foods. Bella's pierogi instructor was rather excited to see her and pressed a jar of something reddish-purple in her arms. She shoved pierogi into Carlisle and Esme until they were near bursting. Bella's favourite food was from a very small cart run by two Chinese men. They were wearing the most beautiful silk tunics with matching trousers. Edward explained that they had been part of the crew who worked building the railroad and had decided to stay in the area to farm. They had yards and yards of thin, hard sausages to sell and sample. But the food that caught Bella's eyes, and her stomach, were very small dumplings perhaps triple the size of a thimble. They had an outer wrapper and each had a small fresh pea nestled in the centre. The flavour was nothing like anything Bella had ever tried before. She fell in love and tried to get more information from the men as to how to prepare the dish. However, the barrier of language was firmly against them and the only thing she learned was that they were made of pork.

So engaged was she with talking to the Chinese men that the group almost missed the ribbon awarding ceremony for the domestic goods. Bella, or rather Edward, had entered several items. Edward had to all but drag Bella to the open pavilion to watch the ceremony. She was very reluctant to attend. Her fears were all for naught as she won third for berry jam, honourable mention for stone fruit preserves and second place for her dilled baby carrots. Her counterpane was on display and despite its unfinished border, it garnered high praise from the Ladies Auxiliary Society. Bella was coerced into allowing it to go to the silent auction for the hospital fund as well as being pressured into helping the society's quilting committee.

They enjoyed the fair, met and mingled with many different people, ate unusual things to their heart's content and generally had a wonderful time. They, as a group, decided to forgo the dance that evening. However, they did stay long enough to see Bella's counterpane sell for an exorbitant amount to Dr. Carlisle Cullen. The announcement of the amount and the winner sent Bella's face to a new shade of red and with great embarrassment she kissed her soon-to-be father-in-law on the cheek.

The next day, Edward had Emmett take the ladies to the small village in the woods for whatever it was that ladies did to prepare for a wedding, bathing and polishing and some such things. The men spent their time doing manly things such as fulfilling Esme's list of wedding night requirements for the new house and following, to the letter, her instructions for readying the house for a week's honeymoon. There was time enough for a stiff drink or three before they fell into their respective beds and slept heavily, waiting for the wedding the next day.

 **AN: Have I ever mentioned just how much I enjoy your reviews? Did I ever say just how thankful I am to all the ladies at The Lemonade Stand? Have I ever told you that I would be lost without beachcomberlc? The answer to all three is A LOT.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 20

The next morning dawned as clear and sunny as any typical prairie summer's day. It wasn't the rooster who roused Bella, but the insistent knocking by Esme on Bella's bedroom door. With a tea tray in hand, Esme beamed at Bella and wished her all the luck in the world for that day's festivities as a morning greeting.

"Now, just you sip your tea and relax before we attempt dressing. I've sent Carlisle over to calm Edward as well as to get him out of our hair and we have time enough before the breakfast to just be." Esme sat beside Bella on her small bed. As she ruffled and then smoothed her skirts, Bella got the faintest whiff of Tea roses wafting from Esme. It was a scent that reminded her of her aunt and Nova Scotia. Her aunt had several sachets to scent her more formal clothing and Tea roses were a favourite. Tears sprung to Bella's eyes as she remembered her former family. She missed her aunt and the pleasant times they had spent together. She knew that she would never hear from her aunt again, that Renée was too ashamed of her late husband to ever reach out to Bella. She missed the ocean breezes of Nova Scotia, the cool mist of fog and sounds of waves crashing over rocks. She was so happy to be marrying Edward and so happy to be joining his family or rejoining them, if truth be told. On this, the event of her third and final marriage she was a veritable rainbow of emotion. Her first two marriages, both of them to Jasper, had coloured her opinions on the institution however she knew that Edward would be head and shoulders above Jasper as a husband.

Esme noticed the tears, no matter how stealthily Bella tried to hide them. She passed the young girl a clean handkerchief and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Tis good to cry, child. You have every right in the world to show your emotions." Esme soothed her and pet her hair. Bella gathered herself and blew her nose. She stood to stretch and lifted her teacup to drink. Esme had added extra sugar to help bolster Bella for the day ahead. The drink had a calming effect of Bella's frazzled nerves.

"As I highly doubt you have any questions regarding tonight, shall we ready your dress instead of having the traditional frightening and uncomfortable bridal education speech?" Bella stared blankly at her for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. Esme joined her.

In the rush of wedding preparation, house completion, and family arrivals she had completely forgotten about her wedding night and what was going to happen. Thinking back to two years ago she was amazed at the difference in herself. She had been terrified and dreading her wedding night with Jasper, as was only natural for the events of their nuptials. Now, she was anticipating and frequently fantasising about her first night with Edward. She fought to rid her mind of such thoughts with Edward's mother in the room. Her blush was beacon enough to show what her mind was conjuring. Bella cleared her throat and smiled at Esme. Esme tried, in vain, to hide her own smile.

The ladies shared a silent moment before Esme walked to the wardrobe and brought forth Bella's dress. It was simple, striped green and white sprigged muslin underskirt with a ruffled hem and four flounces. She was frugal in the dress' design for she re-used the bustle from her evening gown and made certain that the dress could be used for less formal occasions after the wedding. It would become her visiting dress until it started to show wear. The silk organza overskirt was the same shade of white but had a riot of small pink flowers embroidered about it with the same shade of pink in a ribbon edging the drape. The green in the stem of the flowers was the same shade as the muslin stripes. Bows and piping in both green and pink festooned the bodice jacket along the neckline and three-quarter length shirred sleeves. With the removal of the jacket, the dress became more of an everyday dress. It had a simple crossed-over gathered bodice with sheer elbow length sleeves. Both the underskirt and the overskirt could be pair with other dresses to augment her wardrobe without added cost.

"It is a lovely dress for this weather. Light enough to keep you cool in this dry heat but warm enough for evening wear as well. And I do adore the colours. You know, I've heard that white is becoming the colour for wedding dresses in England. It seems that all of the Queen's daughters chose to wear white and it seems to be catching on with everyone else." Esme ran a dampened cloth over the dress to remove any dust. The dress was perfect, not a wrinkle or pulled thread anywhere.

Bella began her day with a warm bath in the kitchen followed by Rosalie curling and braiding her hair into a glossy arrangement with small flowers tucked here and there.

Edward began his day by violently purging the remains of the last night's drinking as his father laughed heartily at him. The bath he was forced into was freezing cold in order to draw the smell of the alcohol he had consumed from his pores. One of the maids employed at the Inn readied Edward's grey frock coat and suit then delivered it to his door. Fully dressed and feeling both fragile and anticipatory, Edward sat looking out the window until it was time for the wedding breakfast to begin.

At the appointed hour, Edward made his way to the Inn's garden to find a large table set for sixteen people. There were small vases of flowers and unlit lanterns interspaced with the dining service. Several maids were bringing dish after dish out of the Inn and putting them on the table.

Emmett took one look at Edward and burst into laughter. Edward looked decidedly green and nauseous. He also looked terrified and uncomfortable.

Bella and her entourage followed the sound of Emmett's glee to find the group. While in the back of her mind Bella registered the lovely table and wonderful smell of the breakfast foods, her attention was focused on the man who, in a few short hours, would be her husband.

The look of horror on Edward's face melted away when he saw his Bella. All his fears ebbed and he longer worried that she would refuse to show up for the wedding and leave him. She looked a vision, her cheeks were rosy and there were sparkles in her eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, both on canvas or in flesh.

Bella worried a handkerchief in her hands, winding through her fingers, bunching it in her fist and releasing it. Esme had pressed it upon her as they left the carriage house.

"It's a bit of family lace I re-made into a hankie for you. I embroidered your initials in blue. I expect you to pass it on to one of your daughters, should you be so blessed as to have one. So it follows the rhyme, dear. I've the sixpence once we reach solid ground for your shoe." She had kissed Bella's cheek and shooed her down the stairs. That was the last thing Bella remembered. She didn't notice the walk to the Inn. She didn't notice the bright clear day or the sounds of the city near them. She didn't notice the well-swept walkway leading to the garden, designed to keep her skirts clean. She didn't notice the beautiful table or the resplendent breakfast. She only saw him.

Carlisle took charge of the gathering, nudging the oblivious couple to their seats. When settled, the couple thanked and toasted their friends and family. They ate heartily and well. The meal was tasty but simple fare. There were fresh, ripe fruits overfilling their bowls, baskets of warm bread and a mounded platter of kedgeree made with the bride's favourite smoked goldeye and dotted with boiled eggs. The conversation was centred on happy things and it ebbed and flowed like a lazy river.

At last, when the sun was at its peak in the sky, the old justice who was to perform the ceremony stood and proclaimed it time for the wedding. The entire gathering, save two maids from the Inn, walked into the decorated private dining room where the ceremony was set to take place. Rosalie passed a small posy of flowers to Bella to hold as her bouquet. The Justice arranged the small group in a semi circle around Edward and Bella. As the bride had no family in attendance they decided to forgo the walking of the aisle.

The couple had opted for a civil ceremony rather than a church wedding and this justice was know for his brevity so it wouldn't be too long before they were properly wed. Both of Bella's previous wedding ceremonies had been officiated by a man of the cloth and she and Edward wanted to distance themselves from those experiences as much as possible.

"As you know, we are gathered here to witness the marriage vows of Edward and Isabella. Do you both come here freely and without impediment?"

They both nodded while answering yes.

"Are there any here who object to this marriage?"

The group held silent.

"And do you both promise to honour the vows you take today for as long as you shall live?" He paused while they both answered their assent.

"Isabella, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Bella turned to face Edward and gazed into his loving face.

"Yes, I, Isabella, take this man, to have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and health, in richness or strife, to honour, to cherish, to love and to obey and hereto I pledge thee my troth." Bella said the word softly but with no tremor or wavering in her voice.

"And do you Edward take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Edward stood proudly before all gathered.

"Yes, I, Edward, take this woman, to have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and health, in richness or strife, to honour, to cherish, and to love," he said this in a clear and joyous voice. But he leaned close to Bella's ear and whispered for only her, and obey, causing her to stifle a giggle before he finished his vows. "Hereto I plight thee my troth." He ended with a huge grin.

Carlisle stepped forward and handed Edward the ring. Bella hardly noticed Rosalie taking her bouquet from her. He slipped it on Bella's finger and held her hand in both of his.

"With this ring, I thee wed, with my body, I thee worship and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

"As you have vowed in front of these witnesses your intentions, it is my honour to proclaim you man and wife on this day, August 14, 1871. You may seal your promise with a kiss."

For as much as he would have enjoyed it, Edward kept the kiss fairly chaste. He doubted that, even with the small gathering of close friends and family and the slightly informal nature of their wedding ceremony, anyone would appreciate his trying to devour his wife in front of them. He would save her as a tasty morsel for later consumption.

They signed the ledger and stood arm in arm as both Carlisle and Rosalie signed as witness. The old justice took his time to sign each and every copy with a grand flourish.

The newly formed couple left the Inn and retired back to the garden. There was first a party for the staff of the Inn. Small gifts and tokens were given to the maids, cooks, grooms and footmen in celebration of the wedding and as a thank you for hard work and services rendered.

After that celebration, more friends and well-wishers from town came to join in the festivities. Some of Edward's patients, fellow doctors and acquaintances from about town came. The frivolities lasted through the afternoon and ended in a grand tea. A less formal party was held after with music, dancing and much laughter. Come early afternoon the exhausted newlyweds attempted to make their goodbyes. 'Twas a process that seemed to take hours. Everybody present wished to shake the hand of the

groom and kiss the bride on the cheek. When finally free and ready to leave, they were stopped one last time. Carlisle stood on a chair in the middle of the room and addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, proud is too trivial a word to express my feelings of today. Today, this morn, my son took to wife a darling girl on whom hinges many hopes and dreams. I have only once seen a look of pure love on a man's face as I have seen on Edward's face this day. It was many years ago, on my own wedding day and in my own mirror. I ask you to charge a glass and join me in this toast. To Edward and his lovely Bella: May your marriage know many tears, none of them in sorrow."

With this he raised his glass but kept his eyes on Bella's and did not break his gaze. Tears did form in her eyes but they did not fall. The crowd cheered and repeated his phrase. Edward kissed Bella and brushed away the tears from her lashes. After one last round of embraces and kisses, the couple fled to their waiting carriage and to their own home for their first night as husband and bride.

 **AN: I am hoping to get this posted early enough for dpennel007's morning commute. And to possibly catch MariahHajile still sleeping. Or to delight everyone reading (if possible).**

 **Thank you for such lovely reviews. There have been a lot of technical glitches lately and I haven't been able to respond. Just know that I adore each and every one and I thank you.**

 **beachcomberlc deserves to be lauded from coast to coast for her herculean efforts in making me readable. Please raise a glass, or coffee/tea mug in her honour.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 21

Edward had instructed the carriage driver to drive slowly so they could just enjoy the quiet of early evening and the beauty of the town in which they lived. He was quite content to hold Bella's hand in his and place the occasional kiss on her cheek. That contentment lasted until they turned down the avenue towards their house. The excitement he had been trying to quell bubbled up inside him. His temperature increased, his breathing became shaky, and his palms started to sweat. He chanced a glance at his bride only to find her calm and unaffected.

The driver stopped in front of the darkened house and made to disembark. Edward halted him, thanked and paid him before exiting the carriage. He turned to lend a hand to his bride. Bella kept her eyes only on Edward while climbing down. Arm-in-arm, they walked down the short path that led to their home. Edward produced the key and opened the door. He surprised Bella with a passionate kiss before scooping her up in his arms to carry her across the threshold. Tenderly, he released her to stand on her own. He reached for the small box of matches he had left on the table the night before while still sober and able to think. The contents of the box rattled as he withdrew one match to light the lantern sconce on the wall. Bathed in the pale yellow light flooding the room, his bride smiled at him while she waited.

"Alone at last, no more nights apart, no more reservations; it's just us." Edward spoke while holding his hands out to her. She floated over to him and placed her hands in his. He drew her in for an embrace before leaning down to kiss her again.

"Come upstairs with me?" he asked while placing soft kisses along her neck.

"I can't, Edward, not tonight." She answered breathlessly.

"Oh...why? I mean, it's perfectly acceptable if you're not ready or afraid, darling. I don't want to pressure you." Edward made every effort not to look as though his entire world was crumbling.

"No, no it's not that. It's just that there is so much to be done around the house and there's only a little daylight left. I thought I'd start in the kitchen and, perhaps, you could organise your study or the main parlour." He looked at her, aghast. She would rather unpack than join him in their marriage bed?

"Here, pass me those matches, I'll light the kitchen fire and put on a strong pot of coffee. Strong enough that it should keep us going for hours. I'll rest better knowing the house is in order, won't you?" She managed to keep the laughter out of her voice, but Edward noticed the mirth in her eyes.

Edward let loose a long, rumbling groan before throwing Bella over his shoulder and marching up the stairs. He had fallen for her teasing, but no more. As soon as he crossed into the room he gently placed his bride on her feet but kept a firm hold on her. Bella was still laughing from the manner of travel up the stairs. She turned in his arms with her back to him and looked about the room.

The men, prior to any consumption of spirits last night, had set up the bed and other furniture in the room. In lieu of proper curtains, they had draped white cotton bedsheets over the windows. A large wardrobe, a tall chest of drawers, and wooden hope chest at the end of the bed completed the dressing of the room. There was no washstand present, as the furniture maker had yet to deliver one, however there were two ewers and two bowls on the floor for any washing needs. There was a bower of wildflowers on the end of the bed, adding to the smells of fresh cut wood and plaster. It amalgamated into a lovely, homey scent. A quilt in a double wedding ring pattern in shades of blue on a white background covered the bed.

"Did you do all this?" Bella turned around again in his arms, reaching her arms up and around his shoulders.

"Last night." He answered, nodding. "Emmett and Father helped. We set up a few things in the kitchen as well, just enough to keep us going for a few days. Do you like it? I mean, does it meet with your favour, Mrs. Cullen?"

"Oh Edward, it's lovely." She pressed a kiss to his cheek in thanks.

Slowly, as if he feared he'd spook her, Edward raised one hand and stroked her face from temple to chin softly, as if she were made of the most delicate spun gossamer. Bella leaned into his touch. She raised up on her toes and brought her lips to his. He eagerly surrendered to her and clutched her closer to him. She could feel his want through all the layers of her gown.

After a moment, they broke apart. Bella walked over to the dresser and began to remove the pins that held her hair in place. She then started to unbutton her bodice and overskirt. Edward sat upon the hope chest and watched her every movement with rapt attention. He knew he had far less clothing to remove and that his bride would be occupied for a longer time undressing. He promised himself that he would let her disrobe unaided for as long as was masculinely possible.

Bella detached her blouse from her skirt and let the skirt fall to the floor. Quickly, the bustle and padding joined. She moved her hair to lay over one shoulder to better reach the fastenings of her blouse. They were simple hooks and eyes at the nape of her neck, mid-back and at her waist.

By the time the blouse joined the skirt on the floor, Edward was on his feet and storming over behind his bride. His patience and resolve lasted three-and-one-half minutes. The sight of her in just her chemise, drawers, and corset clinched it for him and he could wait no longer. He ran the tip of his nose over the tender skin at the nape of her neck as his fingers played with the lace straps holding her chemise.

"You lasted much longer than I thought you would, Mr. Cullen. I thought you'd assist me with every button and tie. I'm quite impressed." Bella stepped back, pressing up against him as his hands drifted from her shoulders to her breasts. Rosalie's corset fit her well, although there was a sneaky amount of padding used to adequately fill the cups. Edward crossed his arms over her chest and slipped his hands under her chemise straps. He delighted in the soft, warm, round flesh he found there. While continuing to lavish attention on her neck with his mouth, he moved his hands to her back and started to loosen the ties that were cinching the corset closed. It took him a few fumbling minutes until the garment dropped to the floor. He spun his bride around to face him and with hunger, kissed her lovingly.

Edward maneuvered them to the bed and broke the kiss by pushing gently on Bella's shoulders, encouraging her to sit. He wasted no time removing his suitcoat and cravat. As he started to undo his shirt buttons, he was thrilled to find Bella unbuttoning his waistcoat. When he was ready to remove both, she sat back and watched. He bent down and relieved himself of his footwear, reminding her to do the same. He forgot what he was doing as he watched her lift first one shapely leg, and then the other to remove her stockings. Only her laughter brought him out of his trance. Then it was his turn to laugh at her when she hid her face, giggling madly from the sight of him lowering his trousers. He stood there in his short drawers, hands on his hips, erection protruding within the fabric and cleared his throat.

"I fail to see what is so amusing, Bella." He was glad that she wasn't frightened of him in all his manly glory.

She tried to stifle her laughter at the slightly ridiculous sight, but failed spectacularly. She fell back onto the bed and rolled to one side. He flopped down beside her and huffed a sigh. Bella managed to control herself and turned to him to apologise. As soon as she was facing him he silenced her with a sensual, passionate kiss. His tongue slid past her lips and caressed hers, making her forget why she laughed in the first place. Slowly, he ran his hand down her body and grasped the hem of her chemise. He tugged on it until it was raised up and over her breasts.

He encouraged her to move up the bed to the pillows as she removed her chemise. He lay alongside her, whispering his love and devotion. Bella ran her hands over his chest and played with the smattering of hair before lifting her head and placing light kisses there. Her hands slid over his sides and up his back, feeling his muscles tense as he lowered his head to kiss her breasts. Her back arched as a whimper of pleasure escaped her lips, his mouth doing delectable things to her breast. She had never felt so much at one time. She felt the prickling of her skin as his warm breath washed over it. She felt his fingers tremble as he touched, stroked and fondled her. Her own hands wandered, feeling the constricting of his muscles under his soft skin, the baby-soft hair at the back of his neck, and his pulse hammering blood through his veins. She felt her own happiness and pleasure within the very fibre of her being.

When he could wait no longer, when he had lathered himself to a near frenzy, he let go of the supple breast he had been caressing and the one he had been consuming and allowed his hand to journey down to slip into her drawers. They both gasped at the feeling of his hand in her most private places. With reverence, he touched her testingly to find if she was ready for him physically. He then asked with his eyes and kisses if she was ready for him psychologically; for it would do neither of them good if she weren't. There was no room in this marriage bed for any ghosts of the past and Edward endeavoured to be the only man Bella ever thought of intimately.

Bella answered him by reaching down and shimmying her drawers off. She knew no fear of this man or this act they were to perform together. She was a more than willing participant and quite eager to experience this night with him. Edward managed to remove his own drawers unaided, although once they passed his thighs he did wonder if that would be sufficient for any movement he wanted or if their complete removal was needed. He decided complete removal was preferable and kicked his drawers off and onto the floor.

When finally skin-to-skin unencumbered, he lay over her holding most of his weight with his forearms. She ran the instep of her foot over his calf and thigh in encouragement. His eyes locked on hers, he slowly moved until he was fully engulfed within her. He paused there, trying to stave off his own pleasure to prolong the moment. As he warred with himself, eyes tightly closed, teeth gritted, Bella took notice of just how beautiful he was and how cherished and loved he made her feel. She peppered his face with small kisses and whispered lovingly in his ear.

"I do love you so, Edward."

With this encouragement he began to move, slowly at first, then faster and with more purpose. Time seemed to stand still as he lost himself in her; in the feelings of adoration and warmth, in the delicious friction between his body and hers, in the overwhelming sensations that filled his being.

Try as he might, Edward couldn't halt the inevitable, and the more he moved, the less he wanted to halt it at all. With one last hard kiss, he gave himself over and climaxed. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him and with the last few thoughts that managed to remain in his head, he wondered if Bella gleaned any pleasure herself. Then his brain ceased to function and his arms gave way. With his face nestled in the crook of her neck and his body collapsed onto hers, he waited until he could feel his toes again to ask her.

She surprised him by asking first.

"That was absolutely delightful, darling. Can we do it again?"

He let out a snort of laughter; he could barely find the energy to blink, let alone rise to the occasion. He rolled so he was now on his back and pulled her towards him. She lay with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his chest. Her fingers toyed with the hair she found there.

"One day," he said languidly, "one day, you will be so satiated and fulfilled that afterwards you will be unable to speak. That's my life's goal, Bella, to have you so overwhelmed with satisfaction you lose the power of speech. And...we will do this as many times as we can until we succeed. Mark my words."

"Yes Edward, I'll mark your words and your lack of breath in speaking them."

He laughed again. Then he leaned down to kiss his wife breathless.

 **AN: The delightful and talented beachcomberlc yet again worked her magic on this story, rendering it readable. For this and many, many other things, I thank her. This story is coming to an end, just one more chapter before the epilogue. However, there are other stories on the horizon. Thank you for reading.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

Chapter 22

Dawn came with the realization that white cotton bedsheets make woefully inadequate curtains. While the fabric might preserve one's modesty from those who would try to catch a glimpse from the outside, they did nothing to dampen the brightness of a prairie morn. Edward woke first, feeling sluggish and boneless but pleased from head to toe. His impatience to have her wake was pressing on her backside, demanding attention. He decided, against his incessant need, not to wake her but to let her rest. There would be time enough in their life together for many a tumble in the sheets as morning broke.

The walk to the privy was just long enough to allow his excitement to wane. After he successfully relieved himself and left the outhouse, he stood surveying his property for quite a while. He was so pleased with his house, his land and most importantly, his wife. He'd had the sleep of a satisfied man from the moment his eyes closed 'til he woke.

Bella woke tired and slightly ill-tempered. She had not slept well. Sharing her bed for the first time was an illuminating experience. Making love with Edward was wonderful and she had never felt such pleasure before. However, sleeping with Edward was less than enjoyable. The night was warm but still warranted a light sheet; not a blanket or coverlet, just a sheet. Edward laid claim to that very shortly after he fell asleep. He also lay claim to three quarters of the bed space. The bed was much wider than any Bella had slept in; at least the width of three of her beds back at the carriage house, but Edward managed to take up a great majority of the area. He was also loudly flatulent twice, both times just as she was becoming comfortable enough to drift off. She was not well-rested and cursed the sun as it flooded the room with light. She lay, grumpily, on her back and listened to the birds tweet and twitter in the trees outside. She also wondered where her husband had gone.

Feeling she could no longer stand being abed, she rose to look out the window at the new day. Pulling back the ineffectual curtain brought her the shock of her life for outside, standing in front of the garden shed was her husband of twenty-one hours, naked as the day he was born, his back to her and his arms held aloft. She giggled to herself as the rather loud complaint of a crow startled him and he ran back into the house.

Bella found him in the kitchen prodding the fire into a blaze. He was still unclothed.

"Good morning, Edward. Sleep well?" She asked innocently.

"Good morning, darling. Yes, wonderfully." He answered as he walked towards her. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her soundly. The sound of the kettle spluttering and sizzling broke them apart.

"Tell me dearest," she asked still with an innocent tone, "do you plan on spending the entire day disrobed or just breakfast?"

"You should try it, it is quite liberating. In fact, I think we should disallow clothing for every day during the summer. It makes me feel powerful."

"Aye, powerful, until you're caught and frightened by a crow, that is?"

Edward didn't respond, but did fix a sheepish look on his face.

Naked breakfast became an almost daily occurrence for him, until the end of September when the weather turned cooler in the mornings. Only within the house though, Edward kept a spare robe by the back door in the event he felt an urgent need to go out when less than fully dressed.

Three weeks after the wedding the elder Cullens returned to the east coast, saddened to leave their children but content with their prospects. They took with them the knowledge that both Edward and Bella were hale and hearty with a long and joyous life before them to share.

Emmett and Rosalie took over residence of the carriage house with delight. Rosalie and Bella spent many afternoons together, alternating homes, helping each other set-up and decorate. Bella met weekly with the Ladies Auxiliary Society quilting and sewing committee. At first, she was taken aback by the brazen and informal topics of conversation, but she did appreciate the camaraderie of the group of women, all of whom seem to have married complete idiots. Almost every story was of their hapless husbands and their exploits. It made her love Edward all the more. He was far from hapless. He had his faults, but they were easily overlooked for the sum of his better qualities. And he loved her, too, a fact which in and of itself overrode most of his peccadillos.

Many nights were spent sleeping in the summer room, as close to sleeping out of doors as one could. Many nights were spent sleeping unclothed as it was a hot, dry summer. Any stitch of clothing just seemed to inflate the temperature. It was an added bonus for a newly wed couple as breathless moods struck them often.

With the heat came drought and with drought came the threat of fire. The soldiers at nearby Fort Garry were placed on alert in case of wildfires, as were most able-bodied men and all the doctors. Edward signed up to be a part of one of the brigades if tragedy should strike, although he highly doubted his services would be necessary. The people of this land knew to guard their fires and to take the utmost care in times of drought. The frozen river that had claimed Jasper swelled its banks in the spring but had receded back to normal for summer. With two major rivers, the town was well protected. Every town, city or village in the Red River Valley had water sources and the ability to aid itself. His brigade would only be called in the event of a major disaster.

The nights grew colder and longer as summer changed to autumn. September turned to October. Married life was better than Edward could have dreamed. His every need, want and desire was catered to by his loving, warm, beautiful wife, whom he loved with all his heart. He endeavoured to fulfill her wants as well. She had so few it was difficult for him to try to spoil her. She had no desire for expensive trinkets; she would never pine for not having enough jewelry or fancy frippery. She showed the same delight and gratitude for the gift of a posy of flowers tied in an old ribbon as she did for the gift of a finely carved escritoire said to have come from the court of a former king of France. Bella was happy and content and that was all Edward could hope for, to have a happy wife.

Early October brought with it a foreboding feeling for Bella. Something was amiss or was going to go awry. It was a sensation she could not quite put to name. She spent a few days inventorying the pantry and cold storage rooms. Perhaps she subconsciously knew this winter would be harsh and she was inadequately supplied. She had list upon list filled with mathematical equations to factor how much food would last and for how many months. She was concerned but not so maniacal as to start hoarding supplies. She felt it unnecessary to inform her husband of these concerns. The household was her domain, not his; it was her area of expertise and he would not fully understand. She knew if she told him, he would race out and purchase items in an attempt to mollify her concerns. It was her responsibility to fill the larder and see to the household supplies and she would be damned if she were to fail at this task. To let Edward purchase staples would mean a failure on her part. Therefore, she kept her concerns to herself.

When news of devastating fires along nearby Lake Michigan and the city of Chicago broke, Edward's fire brigade was called into action. Bella packed every spare stitch of bedding and clothing she could get her hands on, as well as crate after crate of canned goods to send with Edward. They weren't yet certain what they would encounter as they reached Chicago or for what length of time they would be gone. They only knew that there was great work to be done. Reports were unclear regarding the number of injured. The journey would take almost a week due to the conditions of the railroads and surface roads. Edward promised to get word to Bella as soon as he could. She tried not to fear for his safety and to send him off with a brave face. She failed.

Two weeks after he'd left, Edward was able to send a telegram informing Bella of his return date. The message was brief, just a few words: 'BACK NOV 6 OR 7(STOP) AM WELL (STOP) LOVE YOU (STOP) EDWARD'..

Bella had spent her time without her husband wisely. She replaced the supplies she had sent south and satisfied herself by over-providing the canned and dried goods. She convinced the Quilting Society to change their focus from ornate blocked quilts to serviceable blankets and comforters for a short while. They sold many of these at a reduced price to augment what was sent in aid and to raise some money to help in the rebuilding efforts.

In her efforts to guarantee their warmth and survival over the coming cold months, Bella scarcely had time to miss her husband. She fell into bed each night and slept remarkably. When she woke, after a few moments of mourning the loss of a warm male body at her side, she noticed that she slept so soundly that she did not change position at all during the night. This was a daily occurrence while Edward was gone. Perhaps it was the freedom of having a large bed to herself or the lack of a partner moving about to wake her, either one, she didn't care. She woke feeling at though she had slept for days but was completely refreshed and rejuvenated each morning. She worked hard, ate well, slept well and counted the days until her husband would return to her.

Finally, having gleaned the information from a railroad clerk, Bella dressed in her finest everyday gown, her prettiest cap, and new boots. In all her finery she waited at the train station for Edward and the relief train to arrive home. There were plenty of people milling about waiting for their men to return. Edward's brigade was one of the smallest so there was ample room to pace through the crowd.

Bella heard him before she saw him. He was calling her name over the din of the welcomers. He fought his way through the bodies and grabbed her in a tight hug. He swung her around twice before setting her back down on her own two feet. He had a fierce look in his eye and it took every ounce of strength in his body not to throw her to the ground and properly greet his bride of four months. The look she returned to him showed that she wouldn't be averse to such an idea but propriety and society would frown upon it. Not to mention they would both be arrested for public indecency and lewd behaviour. He settled for a chaste kiss to her cheek with the knowledge that he would have her naked in the near future. That is, if he survived the next few minutes.

"I've missed you so, my darling." Bella blushed as she spoke. She wasn't quite yet comfortable with terms of endearment.

"Nowhere near how much I missed you, sweetheart. Did you get my letter? No? Listen, I've done something without your approval and I do hope you will forgive me. It can be rectified if you're averse to the situation." He fixed her with a very contrite look. She drew in a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"A patient of mine had no one and nowhere to go. I invited her here to stay with us until she recuperates. We became good friends while I was looking after her injuries."

"That's fine, Edward, whatever you think is best."

"It's your choice as well, sweetheart. She'll need care for a few more weeks, until she feels ready to look for work. She was a laundress and seamstress before the fire. She doesn't want charity, so it took a great deal of convincing to get her to accompany me here. She's, well, she's had a difficult life. She reminds me of you when I first met you, and your pasts are remarkably similar."

"It's fine, Edward. She can stay as long as she needs. Now, introduce me, please."

Edward turned and caught the eye of a timid looking young woman who had been waiting patiently a short distance away. Edward smiled and waved her over. The young lady dropped her head and walked over to the couple. She was wearing a worn but clean dress, a very oversized bonnet and she had one arm in a sling across her body. She walked quite slowly.

"Bella, this is Angela Weber. Miss Weber, allow me to introduce my bride, Mrs. Cullen."

Angela bobbed a curtsey. She fixed her sight on the top button of Bella's dress, not daring to look the fine lady in the eye. Bella recognized the tension that could been seen on Angela's face. To Angela's great surprise, Bella bobbed her a curtsey right back.

"It's nice to meet you, Angela. I hope you are feeling well after such a long journey."

"Danke, yes, thank you."

Suddenly, a very small and rather brown hand appeared around from behind Angela and tugged on her skirts. Angela reached behind her and a small boy emerged. He looked at Bella with fear and shied into Angela's skirts.

"Bella, this is Angela's son, Jacob." Edward murmured quietly to Bella.

Bella looked from Edward to Angela and then down at Jacob. It was patently obvious that there was more of a story here than Bella had been told yet. Angela eyes were still cast away from Bella's but there was a touch of defiance on her face now. A pride that made the slope of her shoulders rise from defeated to confrontational. It was clear Angela loved her son fiercely and she would fight for him until her death.

Bella knelt down in front of the boy.

"Hello, Jacob. I've been looking for a big, strong boy to help me. See, I have all this jam that I've made and no one to eat it for me. Do you think you could do the job? It's hard work."

Angela let out a sigh of relief. As did Edward. He knew his bride would accept Angela and her son but he'd had a sisyphean degree of difficulty convincing Angela. She had much trouble finding adequate work before Chicago burned and her injuries were such that she might not be able to gain meaningful employment again. The laundry in which she was working collapsed around her and she was pinned by a burning timber. She had burns across her back, legs and the back of her head. Two of the fingers of her dominant hand were severed. Jacob had been untouched by the fire.

Jacob fell in love with Bella instantly. Very few adults he met spoke to him directly or bothered to lower themselves to his height to talk to him. The additional promise of jam sealed his adoration. He slipped his little hand into hers and followed her to the carriage feeling every bit the proud gentleman his mother taught him to be. Angela took Edward's arm and watched the crowd's reaction to her son and Bella. There were a few glances askance and a couple of glowers, but nothing outwardly hateful was said. It was nothing out of the ordinary and much less than in the bigger cities she had lived. It gave her hope.

It took a few days for Angela to trust Bella enough to share her entire story. How she was sent from a small Bavarian town to marry a business associate of her uncle. How the man, who was at least twice her age, beat her and sent her out to work so that he wouldn't have to. He took every penny she earned and spent it on drink. Then Angela fell in love with one of the men at her work and had a brief affair with him. Her husband found out, killed her lover and cast her out, pregnant and penniless. She was able to started over in a new city, only to be shunned when she had a dark-skinned child. She soon found kindness in Chicago, in a community of former slaves run by a very formidable woman named Carmen, who helped her find work, lodging and childcare. The one thing Angela did not speak about was the fire and its effects. That horror was too fresh.

Edward held Bella as she cried that night in bed over Angela's history. He wiped her tears and whispered sweet nothings in her ear to calm her. Bella didn't cry in front of Angela for she knew the stoic woman would suffer no tears on her behalf. Angela wanted no sympathy or pity and she did not offer any to Bella upon hearing her tale of Jasper. It was what it was, and there was no point dwelling on the past for either of them. Angela's mother taught her that a bad beginning may make a good ending and Angela knew her story wasn't over. She had her Jacob and the memory of the love that made him. That was all she needed now.

Edward had worried that all the talk of the past would upset Bella and trouble her, but he was delighted to find it was not the case. In fact, one night about two weeks after he returned, he was shocked when she asked him to tell her stories about his childhood with Jasper. She wanted to know about the Jasper whose heart and spirit were not broken; the Jasper she never had the chance to meet but saw a brief glimpse of before he died. And so he did. He told her of the boy he knew and the fun they had as children. He introduced her to his favourite cousin and confidant in his own way. When he finally ran out of tales, he asked her why she had such an interest.

"Your Jasper and mine were so very different. I prefer yours but I know Jasper had the potential to be much better to me than he was. While I don't believe I could ever have fallen in love with him or him with me, we might have been friends at some point had he lived. All he wanted from me was an heir. If that wish had been granted, he may have changed his ways. I'd like to think that he would have been happy."

"I think he used that codicil of his grandfather's will as an excuse. I think it was a way to hold you at arm's length. He never should have married so soon after losing Mary Alice. And he should never have treated you the way he did, my darling. I think he dug himself into a hole so deep he could only escape through death. I believe he realised that when he rescued you from the river."

"Then perhaps, to honour your Jasper, we could name our child after him?"

Edward beamed at the idea.

"Perhaps, when the time comes." He held her close and thought of the possibility.

Uncharacteristically, Bella giggled.

"The time has come, Edward. I'm with child now."

 **AN: So here we are, the last chapter of Cold. There will be an expanded epilogue as soon as I can finish, but no scheduled time, unfortunately.**

 **This story would be utter shit without beachcomberlc. She polished every word, researched the most obscure phrases and talked me off many a ledge. She is invaluable, inestimable and indispensable.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Warning: This story takes place in a time when women had no control over anything including their own bodies. They could not own property, vote, or serve in office. Most importantly to this story, legally there was no such thing as marital rape. Being married implied consent. This story touches on this dubious consent. Although today it is, rightly, considered rape, in that time it was not. The law was not changed in Canada until just after the Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) was enacted, in 1983. Please do not read this story if it will in any way make you uncomfortable or trigger a reaction.**

 **beachcomberlc edited this for me. Any mistakes are a result of me fiddling with it after.**

 **Standard Disclaimer: The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.**

 **My disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own a vivid memory of how cold the prairies can really get. The coldest temperature ever recorded in Winnipeg was −47.8 °C (−54 °F), on 24 December 1879 and the coldest since then was −45 °C (−49 °F) on 18 February 1966.* (wikipedia) I wasn't alive for either of those dates but I froze my ass off just the same.**

 **Epilogue**

 _Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada 1879_

The very portly midwife gently passed the well-wrapped infant to his waiting father. The tall man glowed with pride.

"Hello, son," he whispered as he stroked one downy cheek.

"And a fine boy he is, sir." The midwife laughed at the man.

"My wife?" he asked with a look of concern on his face.

"Isabella is just fine, sir, a little tired. So, what is the little man's name?" The tall man relaxed, relieved to find his beloved wife well.

"Well, we named our first son after my cousin, who helped us a great deal. And the second after my father, of course. The girls both have their own names, not family names. But this one gets my name, isn't that right, Junior?" he said as he swayed, holding tightly to his son.

"Your wife asked for a bit of time to bathe and that you bring the babe back to her within the hour, sir." The midwife spoke from across the room as she draped her cloak around her shoulders and reached for her bonnet.

She was always happy to come help with birthings at the Cullen household. Mrs. Cullen was very level-headed and that Miss Angela cared for her as well as the finest doctor could. Dr. Cullen, while being a learned man and quite handsome to boot, was an easy father. He was not prone to panic or fainting. He had retired from doctoring himself at an extraordinarily young age, save for helping the local tribes if asked, but still kept up with all the latest revelations in medicine. She watched as Edward swayed about the room whispering to his new son. His father, the elder Dr. Cullen, watched with amusement from his seat by the fire. Carlisle had come to live with his only child after the passing of his darling wife. Esme lived long enough to meet her first three grandchildren, but died on the journey back to Nova Scotia. She died a happy and fulfilled woman. Carlisle did not complete the journey. He turned back at Kingston, Ontario, stopping only long enough to secure a coffin for his wife and return passage. He had her interred in Winnipeg and sent for his belongings to be shipped. A lavish addition was built onto the Cullen's home with a main floor suite for Carlisle and two more children's rooms upstairs. He took over his son's medical practice and hospital duties to fill his hours and keep his mind supple.

The untimely death of his mother left Edward a very wealthy man, wealthy enough to become a gentleman farmer and occasional doctor. He was able to purchase an additional eight acres of land next to his own plot and employ a young farmer to work it for him. He now spent his days with his wife, his children and his extended family in utter bliss. His family was hale and hearty and he would do just about anything for them. He was well-regarded in the communities, enough to be forgiven for his doctoring the natives and harbouring a mixed-breed child in his home. Many eccentricities can be forgiven if one is wealthy enough.

Glancing at the clock, Edward could see he was in danger of being late in returning the babe to his mother. With one last grandfatherly kiss, Carlisle suggested Edward make haste up the stairs. A wink and a smile sent Edward walking quickly out of the room.

At the base of the stairs, he met up with Angela and Jacob. Jacob, at age thirteen, was mere inches shy of Edward's height. He kept his curly brown hair cropped short and his expression serious. Life outside the Cullen home was tense, and the realities of it made Jacob quite somber.

He remembers distinctly the day most of his illusions were shattered, showing him the cruelty of the world he lived in. That day, at six years of age, was also the day he fell in love with Isabella Cullen. When a man with tall boots struck him and called him names for sitting outside the store while his mother shopped, Bella had come to his aid. She'd said not one word to the man but slayed the ignorant ass with a withering look. She took Jacob in her arms and whispered kindnesses in his ear. She held his hand as his mother bandaged his small wound. He heard her crying as she recounted the story to Edward. Edward had taken the boy to his office and attempted to explain the reasons why the world disliked children such as Jacob.

While he loved, admired and venerated his 'Uncle Edward', Jacob also recently learned how children were conceived and was having a difficult time respecting Edward, knowing what he'd done to Auntie Bella under the cover of night. He relished his cousins and thoroughly enjoyed being the eldest. However, at the moment he was struggling to like Uncle Edward.

Angela recovered well from her injuries and worked hard to compensate for the loss of her fingers. Alas, they were so severely damaged she could not return to seamstressing or commercial laundry. The scars hampered her movement and speed. Couple that with her unapologetic pride in her child, his skin tone and the events that led to his birth, and she was unemployable in town anywhere but the Inn at the Forks. Emmett and Rosalie offered her a well-paying, steady job but had nowhere for her to reside with a young child. Emmett's aged parents had come to live with them at the carriage house and the dormitories at the inn for the staff simply could not house a child. Edward and Bella offered her their own carriage house, after some renovations, and an income for as long as she wanted. She became Bella's helper, confidant, and sister. Together they made the house and the garden run smoothly.

There is a great deal of work needed to run a household as large and boisterous as the Cullen home. Especially with so many young children running about. Bella relied on Angela's experience for her first pregnancy and Angela helped her as much as she could. As more and more children came, the bond between the two deepened.

It seemed to take but a twinkle in Edward's eye and Bella was with child again and again. Five in eight years of marriage, all healthy and well born. Bella struggled with her decision to name her first boy after Jasper. As the gesture was a gift for him, she did not allow Edward to know of her struggles. It wasn't until he was three years old and she had young Carlisle still at her breast that she realized that her son was not the embodiment of his name. His name had nothing to do with the other Jasper save for a memorial to the cousin Edward lost. The name does not make the man. Bella threw off the yoke of her former marriage and life, deciding to live in peace with the past. Two months later she was with child again, and it was her first girl child. Bella held her newly birthed daughter and whispered promises in her ear. Promises Bella herself had never been given, but came to live by. She will be strong, she will know her mind and she will be loved. No one who dares harm her will go unpunished. She will be proud, she will be smart and she will expect the world to treat her as a lady. She will be kind and generous to everyone who crosses her path.

The same words were whispered with the same vehemence to another soft baby girl a year-and-a-half later. Now both Margaret and Katharine played rough-and-tumble with their brothers and Jacob, as well as hosting fairy parties with Angela. There was time enough to mould their deportment to suit society's restrictions; for now, they straddle both worlds, masculine and feminine, in their play. The boys, now busy working with a tutor, did not have as much time to play as they once had. Although, Carlisle was allowed every-other-afternoon off and would often be seen reluctantly attending a fairy tea party with his sisters.

Bella reclined on her pillows and waited for her husband and child to return. The pressure in her breasts made her anxious to have her babe in her arms but she did not want to rush the bonding of father and child too much. Edward had some sort of ritual with each baby and Bella knew he would have this little one back to her soon.

She nestled down a little further into the bed when she heard his light tread on the stairs and strained to hear his whispers to his namesake.

"So, now that we've met Grandfather, Auntie Angela and Cousin Jacob, let me introduce you to your siblings. You must be quiet though, Edward, they're sleeping right now. Usually I wouldn't bother with admonishing you but your mother needs them to sleep a few more hours. If they're quiet, you and Mummy can get a nice long nap after you've eaten. So, eldest first."

Edward quietly opened the first door off the stairs and hovered in the doorway. There was just enough moonlight to make out the boy-shaped lump in the middle of the bed.

"This is Jasper. He is very smart but hates doing his sums. He likes beetroot but cannot stand turnips. When he thinks he's alone, he makes up songs and sings them out loud. Whatever you do, do not touch his feet. He is extremely ticklish and he pouts after being tickled."

The door was shut just as quietly as it was opened. The next door was opened, but the draperies did not allow any light to see the occupant.

"Somewhere in this room is your brother Carlisle. He is named after Grandfather but takes after Grandmother in so many ways. You'll hear all about her soon. This brother will get you in trouble without even meaning to, but he's such a charmer, you won't mind. In fact, he may just make you think it was all your idea in the first place. He, for reasons unknown, adores spinach."

Edward crossed the hall with his precious bundle.

"Now, these two beauties are your sisters. If your brothers harass you in any way and your mother and I are not there to help, go to them. They'll sort them out. Maggie can out-argue the world's best barrister and Katie bites. Good people to have in your corner. Maggie knows everything about everyone. But Katie, she knows where every candy is in the house. They are magical creatures, your sisters. Although they turn into banshees when offered vegetables; any vegetables."

Edward walked to the doorway of his own bedroom and smiled at his wife.

"Now Edward, I am well aware that you have already met your mother, having just exited her body. but allow me tell you about her from a different perspective. She can do sixteen million things all before breakfast. She has the biggest heart, the strongest shoulder and the best smile. She'd always right and will wait patiently for you to figure that out. She'll keep you healthy, tend your wounds and fill your tummy and love you to death whether you want her to or not. She'll be the centre of your universe for the next few years but she'll be the centre of mine for the rest of my life."

"Edward, what nonsense are you filling his head with?"

"It's not nonsense, darling," he said as he carefully slid onto the bed beside her, trying not to jostle the sleeping infant. "As the middle child, he'll need to be well informed. I thought I'd start teaching him properly before the rest got in the way. This is all very important information for him to absorb."

"Middle child? Good Lord, Edward, let me recover from this one before you press another five on me."

"I like pressing things on you, Bella. That's how we came to have these five children to start with," He answered her with a wink and a smirk.

"There'll be no pressing of anything for some time, Edward, except for your luck." Bella huffed, but was secretly amused by her handsome husband.

Little Edward yawned and opened his eyes to stare at his father. Edward took it as a sign to continue with the baby's introduction of his family and home.

"For the next two months or so, this will be your room, my boy. You'll sleep on Mummy's side of the room because she has to take care of you at night and not because Papa is too dense to get up, as your mother may try to convince you. See, boy, Papa doesn't have the necessary equipment to calm you or feed you. Papa only gets to play with Mummy's when she allows. Then you'll go into your very own nursery just next door. After that, when you're old enough, you'll move into Carlisle's room with him. Welcome to the world, little one." Edward leaned over and placed gentle kisses on his son's forehead.

"I'd never tell him you're dense, just a conveniently heavy sleeper." Bella whispered as she reached for the child. She would not delay his first feeding any longer.

"I'm a very smart man, son, don't let her fool you."

"If you were so smart Edward, you wouldn't mention having five more children hours after I've given birth."

"We both know you can't keep your hands off me, Bella. I'm not the one to blame. You get this predatory look in your eye just six weeks after having a baby. I know I'm in trouble then. You only see me as means to an end, a baby-making machine. Don't try to deny it, woman."

"I do love you, you fool." Bella tilted her head up for a kiss.

The bed shook with their laughter and baby Edward fixed his father with a frown from behind the breast at which he suckled. Edward laid his head on Bella's shoulder and watched as his boy fed, happy and content with the world.

 ** _The End_**

 **AN: That is it, for now. I have a few ideas for the future but for now I'm closing the curtain on Cold. This story would be nothing without beachcomberlc, through the contest, the expansion, my cancer and other struggles, she has been a steadfast companion and the best teacher ever. I wish I could do more to thank her for all of her help and patience. There are many other people who have helped along the way, and I thank them, but mostly I want to thank those of you who read and waited for me to finish. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.**


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